


The Calling

by SilverQueen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dragon Age - Freeform, Dragon Age Spoilers, Drama, Dreaming, Dreams, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fantasy Racism, Fen'Harel - Freeform, Hate, Love, Magic, Slow Answers, Slow Burn, Solas - Freeform, Torture, Triggers, Violence, Wolves, long haul - Freeform, mature themes, possible sexual content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-04-11 19:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverQueen/pseuds/SilverQueen
Summary: “Do you remember what I said when I first arrived here?” You grip the notebook tightly as if you’re afraid it will disappear. Celia peers up at you with large eyes, mind clearly rolling over everything you’ve said in the past year to her.“That you got called to us, that’s how you knew where to find us.”Many names, many faces. It is a life to be lived with an inner solidarity that only she knows, for no one would understand. How can she live on knowing what she knows about the world around her, and her own existence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, a few things before you read on.
> 
> This story will contain mature content on the following things:  
> Violence and Gore  
> Sexual Violence and Mentions of it (unfortunate as it is in a more medieval setting that such things are to be expected)  
> Mental Illness (but never glorified)  
> Physical and Mental Abuse
> 
>  
> 
> If there is to be Explicit Sexual Content I will warn readers ahead of time, but otherwise these things will be peppered throughout the story.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Hope you enjoy
> 
> This is the only way I can vent my appreciation to the series and celebrate that another game will be included within the next two years (hopefully). I can't help that I find Solas very *enchanting* if you know what I mean.

It would not be the stupidest way to die, you can’t help but muse to yourself, though not the most preferred place for such an event.

In any case there _would_ be a crowd much like the one that's staggered to a stop to watch. Despite it being in the middle of a busy street watching the Templar choke the life out of an elf apparently warrants attention despite it being close to a daily occurrence.

“Filthy knife ears, always causing trouble wherever they go.” The Templar continues to prattle, tightening his grip and shaking your body like a ragdoll despite your less than responsive state.

Vaguely you hear Celia begging the man to release you while tugging on your dangling legs, as if she hopes to dislodge you but she only seems to annoy the Templar more.

It thankfully and finally results in you being dropped like discarded trash, his mind already switching gears. Gulping in breaths you hug the small child to yourself, trying not to flinch as she wraps her arms around your shoulders and cries softly.

When it becomes positive the man isn’t going to run you both through with his sword a small smile comes to your lips, “Thank you ser, it won’t happen again.” The templar huffs but now seems bored with the situation as he quickly turns to leave, the crowd now dispersing and moving on their merry ways as well, leaving Celia and yourself more or less alone as far as the shemlems are concerned.

“Hush, _da’len_.” You pat the girls back soothingly, grimacing at the roughness of your voice. If he had continues for much longer you’re not sure you would have escaped without a crushed throat, you’d seen it done before and much worse only to have the body swept away like nothing had happened.

“I-I’m so sorry big sister!” Celia finally manages as you wobble to your feet and urge her away to an alleyway away from any lingering gazes. “You always tell us to be careful and yet...and yet…”

You give Celia a once over to make sure she didn’t get hurt but she only stares at you with a tear soaked red face, looking as though she could burst into frantics again at any given moment.

You can’t help but smile serenely as you pat her sweaty hair down, fully relieved that you just managed to get there in time. Celia has always been one of the more emotional children as well as one of the most aware, you tried to drill it into their heads that if they are to steal they need to focus on easier targets or risk possible harm.

But the Templars are a wicked temptation to even more experienced thieves in the town, wearing their gold pouches as if proud to be paid well despite even most of the shemlems living in poverty.

You knew it from the moment you failed to find Celia in the shack that she was going to get in trouble if she already wasn’t, your senses leading you away where you quickly did indeed find the child with her sticky fingers reaching for the full coin purse.

If you had put yourself in between them any later...no, you’d hate to think of what would have happened.

“Are you okay?” Celia bursts your train of thought and you realize you’ve been absentmindedly rubbing your throat, guilt clearly written over the younger elf’s face as she traces over your own fingers paths.

“I’ll have bruises but no lasting damage, I’m sure.” You try your best to convince her but she expression still shows doubt even as you lead her away and back to the shack.

It’s no surprise the other children were worried with the way you rushed off because as soon as they see you and Celia there’s an influx of activity and questions, small hands grabbing at your clothes.

“What happened to you, big sister?”

“Did Celi get in trouble?”

“You’re hurt! You’re hurt!”

A sigh escapes you as you sit in the small shack, even with boards missing from the ceiling the shade provides a sense of relief from the overbearing sun. You don’t think the heat will ever be comfortable to you, no matter how much time you spend in it.

“I am fine, little ones.” You reassure a number of times, the children worry so much. “There was a small scuffle but we both got away, which is what matters.”

“It was Celia’s fault, isn’t it.” One of the children finally grumbles and you see a couple other nod as if in agreement, making you bite your lip.

“We shouldn’t blame one another when something happens, Celia is not the reason that such actions are allowed towards us.”

The children go quiet, some still looking stubborn but still listening at least. This is something you’ve tried to stress many times.

“The people of this world care more for themselves than you, you see evidence of that everyday. But that’s what makes it so important to find the people who will be there for you and allow you to grow from all this. Which is why we have to be each other’s family.”

At the word family the children finally seem to soften again, as they should be. Already the poison of the world fills them with bias and the inklings of hate, but their craving for something normal brings them together and you will do anything to protect that.  

You smile when Celia is accepted outwardly by one of the older boys you can’t help but call sweet James, “We take what we need to be able to survive and maybe to one day be the positive change this world may need, no matter how small.”

 

Thankfully for the rest of the day there is no other trouble and any of the other children that were out pool their collections together in front of you while you cook their dinner.

They’ve come a long way in their abilities, more and more coins piled in front of you every evening being truly a testament to the change you inflicted on the group.

They were so starved when you first appeared you doubted they could do much more than beg for scraps of food at any stand that wouldn’t immediately call the guards over.

Celia was in worse condition as the only elven child, not only starving but beaten as well for even attempting to do the same as the others.

Glancing over at the young blonde you can almost remember the way her bones seemed to jut out of her body, now rounded out by some of the baby fat she was always supposed to have.

“You did very well,” you praise the kids as you inspect their haul, watching in amusement as sweet James flush with embarrassment, still unused to positive reinforcement you suppose.

It will take time for them to develop self worth but there’s nothing wrong with trying to undo some of the damage while you can.

You allow the children to have half of everything they take before tucking the rest away into a spot for safe keeping, another hard task being how to teach them how to use their supplies carefully while not withholding the coins they worked for themselves.

You feel as if there’s never enough time, not for all the things they need to know.

After dinner is the only time you find yourself in silence, the children knocked out from their full bellies and lying cuddled with each other as if out of habit more than for bodily heat.

You can see the stars though the missing boards as you lie on your back and rub your throbbing neck, hoping no one noticed how slowed your own eating was this evening on account of the pain.

You hope it will dull enough that you can attempt sleep but after a while your eyes are still wide open and staring into the night sky.

 

Celia is a nearly constant factor at your side for the next week and though she doesn’t say it you know it’s because she’s too guilt ridden to run off again and into more possible problems.

The last time you got between her and an angry guard resulted in a sprained pinky on your part and she didn’t go out for three whole days, but now she seems determined not to leave your side until your current injury fades from view.

You hardly need guarding over from a _da’len_ but find her concern endearing in any case, you suppose you would have been just as concerned if you witnessed someone getting thrown around like a doll.

You can hardly see a healer, you’d made that mistake once already when trying to get help for a horrible sickness that ran through all the kids before getting cursed out of the shop as a knife ear.

You doubted if the healer wouldn’t consider helping out sick orphans that they certainly wouldn’t look after you personally.

And so Celia follows you, quietly working on anything that you set your own mind to. Counting coins and deciding what uses they will be put forth for, cleaning stray clothes the children leave hanging around, wandering alleyways for anything to patch the shack up with for the next time it rains.

But she also tags along when you follow your feelings, checking up on other children, talking to civilians (carefully selected) for news of the outside world, and actual pickpocketing.

It’s hard to explain to the little ones how you go about selecting your victims, how do you explain a feeling you have to someone else who clearly doesn’t feel it.

But that doesn’t stop Celia from asking as she has so many times before, clearly struggling with the fact that you get away with the theft as if not even there to begin with when she herself seems to get in trouble for even attempting.

“Well,” you start thoughtfully and bite into the loaf of bread you bought for the both of you to share, courtesy of the man you nicked the good pieces of silver off of. “I start by looking at the people first, watching how they interact not only with others but I suppose with _themselves_ as well.”

You gesture to the crowd of people milling below and Celia peers over the rooftop at them all with a concentrated expression.

“Watch them for a minute, tell me if someone catches your eye.” Celia does what you say, her dark gaze flicking from person to person, her foot jittery as she hopes to succeed in whatever you have planned for her.

It’s the thought on the top of her mind and you can’t help but grin as you catch wind of it, she may struggle more than the other children but she has a greater will to make changes.

“Um, well what about her.” Celia finally decides on a figure and you follow her fingers trail, just in time to see a woman shemlem smacking her kid who was starting to get upset because of the crowds.

The woman is nasty to be sure, even from here you feel the repulsion she harbors for her own child, her thoughts briefly flickering to and from abandoning the boy where he cries loudly and just simply leaving him to his own devices.

You feel your chest burn but you smother it.

“She’s certainly distracted enough, but I’m not sure she’s the one you want.” You catch Celia’s crestfallen look before quickly adding. “But not a bad target for your first look around. Do you see that man over there, beard overgrown?”

You spotted him not that long ago wobbling around despite not having an actual drink in his hand. He may be rambling under his breath to himself but not a single person acknowledges his presence, his feeling being muddled and far away.

Perhaps being a midday drunk is seen as an activity for the lazy and poor in some places, but here it means they have an income, putting them above the average person. You explain this to Celia as well, but it never goes further than that, you both seem more content people watching for the time.

“...Big sister…” Your eyes flutter open from their resting and you blink up at the sky, the sun now in a different position and having left you long cast in shadow.

You sit up and yawn lowly, did you fall asleep? Sure enough you’re still on the rooftop from your late lunch with Celia who is sitting like a worried mother hen. The younger elf seems embarrassed for waking you up which makes you laugh.

“I’m sorry, how long have I been out? Have you been stressfully watching over me this whole time?” You ruffle her hair and she flushes pink.

“Only a couple hours, I practiced watching people and you just seemed so tired…” She says looking at her fingers before glancing at you.

Your amusement dies down somewhat as you pat her head once more in understanding, wondering how Celia herself is sleeping.

“Well thank you, let’s head back so I can make something for everyone to eat though. You must be starving.” Celia perks up at the mention of more food, chatting to me as we descend from the rooftop and you admire how good she has gotten as climbing.

More sure footed than she used to be and her small fingers find purchase in the smallest of crevices.

 

It’s later that night when the group is asleep once more after the long day, soft snores signaling your turn to struggle to sleep.

Thankfully because of Celia you at least a have a couple hours under your belt so you don’t have to stress over it immediately, yet you still do.

It rolls around your mind repeatedly every time you shift position to try to get more comfortable but fail.

You can’t tell what it is that disturbs you so but the heavy feeling in your chest has grown like a cold rock sitting at the base of your throat, no longer ignorable as you toss and turn.

You can feel a cold sweat break out over your skin as you fall deeper into stress, rolling over once more and feeling your stomach peak angrily.

The small patter of feet is what hurriedly has you turning over, wiping the perspiration from your upper lip quickly.

“Are you okay?” You sit up quickly and feel your innards churn but still smile to Celia who has left the little pig pile, dark eyes bleary.

“Yes I am okay, just having a hard time feeling tired. You too?” Celia sits herself besides you and yawns widely, revealing her baby teeth including the gaps where she’s already lost some.

Being a late bloomer you suspect her teeth are nearly rushing to leave by her gums by now for the pearly whites to come in. The both of you sit in near silence for a moment, listening to the subtle creaking of the shack as the warm night breeze pushes up against it.

You can’t help but miss living in a different climate, here the day is hot and the night is hot which leaves you in an unbearable sweaty state all the time.

Despite her light hair Celia is tanned from her years of living here and seems completely unbothered by the less than refreshing wind as she digs her bare toes into the dirt flooring, your own feet absentmindedly following her lead.

“Hey...do you think...maybe we could read your book?” You look at her in surprise, it has been a while since she last asked that.

It was something you initially did with all the kids when you first came, stories gave them something normal and comfortable while they adjusted to the many changes you set to making.

“Sure.” You twist yourself onto your stomach before rifling through your personal bag, past bottles and scrolls and other books until you find the one you know she is probably hoping for.

Unlike the others Celia never tired of sitting and listening to you read about far away places and long ago and even more so grabbed onto the elvish tales.

It was at least once a week that she would sit you down when none of the other kids were around and try to read along with you, memorizing small words when she was able to.

You cannot blame her for the fixation, when you were a child you begged your own mother to tell you everything she ever knew about your people and clung to any of the language that happened upon your tongue.

You doubt any of them experienced formal lessons of any kind in their lives even before the orphanage was systematically abandoned by the town, but it became abundantly clear how their minds suffered when Celia broke down.

It had been a few months ago during one of the quiet times while you went over a collection of simple songs with her, but her face kept screwing up with irritation and finally she threw the quill she was practicing writing with into the dirt.

“ _Da’len, are you okay?_ ” You’d asked as a few fat tears squeezed from her eyes, placing the book closed. You’d been so distracted with trying to remember the exact pronunciation of the next sentence of the lullaby you hadn’t noticed her building explosion.

“No! Stop speaking Elvhen! I can’t remember any of this, I’m so stupid!” She burst into more tears as you balanced on your knees in front of her, looking down at the paper she had been scratching away at.

You had been reading aloud the songs you had been going over to see how many words she could recognize and write down even if not spelled correctly, but there were so many ink blots to cover mistakes that it was hard to tell what was what.  

“You are not stupid, stupid people don’t try to educate themselves.” You had said pointedly, making Celia look you in the eye seriously despite her clearly not wanting to.

“It doesn’t matter if I want to learn because I can’t! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!” You could only stare at her quietly before drawing her in to lean against you and cry.

When you felt as though she’d calmed down slightly you sighed into her small shoulder.

“ _Da’len, abelas._ I did not know you felt as such about yourself. I wish I had words to convince you that just because you struggle does not mean you have failed. It’s okay to ask for help if you need it.”

Celia sniffled and in the tiniest voice said, “But...you won’t always be here to help.” Her words were like a cold grip on your heart and you hope she didn’t feel your sharp intake of breath, but you couldn’t deny it.

Your memory is cut off as anxiety suddenly spikes in your chest, the suspicion of your recent feelings now becoming clearer as you turn to look at Celia with the book in your hand.

You smile to her and she shyly returns it before sitting knee to knee with you.

There’s a lot of things that cross your mind that you feel as though you should say, but in the end you simply work with Celia until she’s asleep with a quill in her hand with her head upon your thigh.

You run your hands through her light strands as you read until you realize what you’re doing, hand flinching as if shocked. But you’re not shocked are you.

It’s so hard not to get attached even if you maintain some semblance of distance, and with children it’s always worse.

They’re like other beings, blank slates, everyday they form in some new way right before your eyes.

And so many people advanatage of that, they take the innocent creature of young life and abuse it and twist it until it grows to spread to everything it interacts with just like the people that poisoned them to begin with.

Looking down at Celia who makes a little noise in her sleep you pause before resuming your hands motion.

 

If you sleep that night you don’t remember it but when you open your eyes Celia is already gone, which does nothing for the nerves that already attack your insides.

You feel disoriented as you sit up and see that breakfast has already been made and children are already halfway done eating.

They greet you with full mouths and you can’t help but ask, “Who made food?”

    “Celia!” Says the sweet James, “She told us to let you sleep and then she left.”

    “Left?” You wonder out loud but the only response is some giggles and shifty looks, but if these kids are all good at something it’s keeping a secret.

You know that doesn’t include if someone is in danger but for some reason that doesn’t lighten your mood.

You try not to show them that you’re getting bad feelings but as they start to move about you can’t help but stall sweet James the leader with a “Please be careful today?”

 You mill around the shack. You can’t tell what’s wrong and you’re thinking of everything but no specific face comes to mind and no locations come to view. This isn’t a regular _feeling_ , you know what’s coming but it’s never felt this intense and overwhelming, never this _bad._

You try to distract yourself by doing what you regularly do in the mornings despite it already being off of habit, cleaning up all the makeshift dishes you acquired for them over time and then straightening out the bedding and then stamping down the dirt back into flooring.

Yet it’s only getting harder to concentrate still, running over faces and places in your mind but nothings wrong.

And then it’s happening, when you’re cleaning out the old coals from the fire pit. You hear The Calling from far away.

 


	2. Part 2.

 

Your body goes rigid and almost against your will you turn your head as if to stare off into the distance, if there weren’t a wall in the way.

You look because you can _see_ as if it’s in front of you as the many lives are blown from the world, t _heir screams echoing in your ears as they cease to exist in a magnificent explosion. And then the pain as the seams split and so much spills forth-!_  

“Big sister!” It’s the voice of someone who’s repeatedly called to you and gotten no response, panicked as you’re hunched over and holding your head.

Your eyes roll up to see sweet James hovering worriedly over you as he hushes his younger companions who are practically bursting at the seams.

    “I’m sorry,” you apologize while still wincing from whatever you just witnessed with this calling.

That was a chaos like you’ve never seen before, and you’ve seen some.

“Is something the matter?” You hear yourself ask distractedly as you fumble you clean your hands that you only now remember are covered in ashes.

“Something’s...different.” Sweet James says rather unhelpfully as the two littler ones chirp up behind him.

“People actin’ weird.”

“I saw’s some weird Templars.”

“Yeah the templars are ruffling feathers more so than usual today,” sweet James finally says, “Something feels weird and everyone can feel it.”

You stand and take a moment to absorb what they are saying. You need to face one problem at a time, and right now the easiest thing to deal with is gathering all the kids back here away from whatever the Templars are doing.

“Thank you for checking in, let’s spread the word to come back until I know what’s going on.”

You hope someone reaches wherever Celia is quickly, if someone is to find trouble by accident it’s her.

And that thought sticks.

It doesn’t take long for the kids to find one another, they know all their own favorite spots. There’s a consensus among them, even the young ones, that something is amiss.

You reason it is far too soon for anyone here to know about whatever catastrophe just occurred far across the land but you cannot search out the reason for whatever is going on in town until everyone is back, and there’s still more missing...there’s one still missing.

“Where is Celia?” You question and sweet James looks concerned as most of the kids seem unsure.

“Where well did she go this morning, I know you all know something.”

The kids babble over each other until one girl finally gets out, “She was findin’ a present for you, but I don’t think she said where.”

You bite your lip and get _that feeling_ , telling the kids to stay in the shack and to make as little noise as possible before darting out into the day.

Buying a present? For what? And where would she go for such a thing?

You check the nearest shops first just in case but there’s no sight of her there, but as the kids said there’s a stressed air about.

Yet anyone who is out say hardly a word as the oppression grows, it’s the familiar pressure of something about to pop. 

You feel as though you can hardly breath when you pick up on the feeling of trouble, swinging around a random corner to the sound of commotion and coming fully faced with a pale Celia standing with her arms defensively around a bundle.

“I didn’t steal it, I bought it.” Celia’s voice is shaking and you look to her offenders, wincing at the sensation of needled against your being.

The Templars have always been unpleasant here but there’s something off about them now, a plume of red seeping from them that upon contact with your sensitivity, burns.

“Fucking knife earred brat, I remember you. Even if you didn’t steal whatever that is, you definitely stole the coin.” The Templar takes a threatening step towards Celia who backs up just as quickly. “Should have taught you a lesson the first time.”

There is no one else around and your senses are fluttering anxiously, you couldn’t feel the intent to _seriously_ maim the last time you faced this man but now the blood lust is palpable among the three.

You are standing behind Celia with your hands on her shoulders before they even seem to realize you’re there, steering her quickly behind you and once more placing yourself between them.

You look into the dark helm where his eyes surely burn and try to remain a neutral façade as you calmly say, “Surely there’s no need for such a reaction.”

The Templars stance shifts in response to your sudden appearance but not in the way you expect.

Instead he decides to loom over you at an uncomfortable distance, even if it’s not that close.

“Ah yes, I remember you too. The kiddies little savior, always putting herself in the middle of shit she doesn’t belong in and causing problems.” The chuckle he gives is anything but nice.

“This doesn’t need to be anyone’s problem.” You assure him.

“Maybe I want to make it your problem.” He has a strand of your hair between his fingers before you can pull away. You swallow thickly and feel him watch the motion with morbid interest.

“That would be a mistake.”

He and his buddies all have a good laugh at that but he still does not release your hair.

“Things are about to change bitch, I don’t have to worry about what you or anyone else considers a mistake again.”

No one moves after that for a moment as if time has momentarily stood still, your eyes locked on where he still holds you.

“ _Da’len, run!_ ” You command and hear her take off, blissfully reading the situation correctly and not lingering for even a moment.

The Templars reaction is slightly delayed but you take the advantage of that and block his hand away, breaking free to stumble backwards to begin to run.

You’re fast but you don’t break out of the space before getting grabbed painfully and dragged backwards, your sharp elbow swinging back and smacking repeatedly into your attackers barely exposed flesh.

The two other Templars seem content with watching their leader wrestle you on to your back and to the ground, your limbs pushing back against him in a good attempt to keep him off.

You’ve taken on men before, men in armor even, but whatever has corrupted this templar is pushing the limits of your own strength. Especially with your skills being rusty.

You grit your teeth and feel sweat bead as you begin to panic, disgust making you recoil as a gloved hand finds its way onto your leg.

“Don’t touch me!” you kick him where you can and feel him wheeze, finding purchase on his armor with your bare toes you swing your leg up to knee him in the chin, hearing his teeth click even from under his helmet.

He swears profusely as you slip from his grasp and crawl backwards until your back hit a wall, the other templars now looking less relaxed as they start to block off your exits.

Your main attacker is getting to his feet again when suddenly a shelmem bursts in, eyes wide.

“By the maker, what is going on here!” He demands obliviously as the templars look to him.

You can’t believe someone actually heard your scream and came running, you would consider this silly shelmlem a momentary hero for his timing if you didn't see what happens right before it does.

“No-!” You’re cut off by the blade that slides right through him, deemed unnecessary in his interruption.

The mans body goes slack as you fully realize the templars really think they will answer to no one for this and have no restraint.

You take the unfortunate passing as the moment to vault across the remaining space, narrowly dodging reaching hands as you slip away and into the streets.

Things are falling apart all around as it seems the world has gone to shit.

The Templars everywhere seem to have adopted a similar policy as the ones that accosted you and are now tearing through the town.

You cling to walls and away from the bulk, climbing to the nearest rooftop when you can and risk jumping across as opposed to daring the streets.

You beg for Celia to already be back at the shack with the others, that she made it through and that they all simply wait for you to return now.

You make sure the closer you get to the shack that no one has managed to follow you and that the area remains quiet, knowing that the skills of hiding have not failed you yet.

Finding a location where a group of ruffian children can stay undetected was not an easy feat but moments like these make it easy to see the appeal of taking the time to live anonymously.

You drop down into the hidden area and only stop to calm your desperate heartbeat before pushing in further, bursting into the shack full of quietly waiting kids.

They look at you in shock at your arrival but when Celia hits you with a solid hug to your hips the silence breaks.

It takes a while for everyone to calm down, yourself included, but when night falls it becomes apparent that you are truly safe.

Over a cold dinner everyone puts in their chips of information of things they saw or heard but no overwhelming story comes to light as to what exactly just happened and even you are at a loss as to what to think.

You wonder if the Chantry knows how its Templars are acting, if this was apart of their plan as well and what it could accomplish.

The Chantry never gave back in a realistic way to the community but you never got the impression it hated its citizens enough to allow this to happen.

Knowing full well you won’t sleep tonight for the peace of mind for the kids and yourself you pace around outside, pausing at every noise that occurs but still finding nothing of threat.

You are not at all surprised when you find Celia eventually joining you outside, her gaze not at all that of someone who just woke up.

“I’m scared,” she tells you without prompting and you nod in understanding, draping your arm around her shoulder and drawing her closer to your side.

“I am too,” you admit honestly. “But I have a feeling we are going to be okay, if that helps.” Apparently it does because she slumps a little and lets out a large breath.

“I thought today was going to be different, I just wanted to make you happy.” You look down at her in confusion and see she looks rather bashful as she continues.

“Um...well… it’s been a year since you saved us all. I’m better with numbers that letters so me and everyone else put some coin aside like you taught us so that I could go out and find you something. A lot of the places I tried wouldn’t allow me in but I eventually found something.”

You feel at a loss for words as Celia brandishes the forgotten package from before and shyly hands it to you, seeming torn between wanting to see your reaction and not.

You unravel the old and stained paper to reveal a small leather-bound notebook.

You thumb though it fondly looking at all the small blank pages while already imaging the wonders you could fill it with, grinning to yourself.

When was the last time someone gave you a present, and such a thoughtful one.

“Thank you,” You are filled with instant regret however. “I’m… unsure if I deserve such thoughtfulness.” Celia clearly disagrees with the expression she makes and you can feel her argument rising but you have to say it, have to break the moment.

“Do you remember what I said when I first arrived here?” You grip the notebook tightly as if you’re afraid it will disappear.

Celia peers up at you with large eyes, mind clearly rolling over everything you’ve said in the past year to her.

“That you got called to us, that’s how you knew where to find us.”

“Yes, I saw you all and knew that I had to be there for you all and so I traveled far.” You say.

“It was something I was meant to do but I want you to know that I have enjoyed my time here immensely. I have not often have the opportunity to savor the places and people I spent time with, often I would find myself wondering when the next calling would come so I could move on from wherever I was.”

You can’t look at her yet you know she’s taking in everything you’re saying carefully. Always a good listener, well, at your rambling moments at least.

“I find myself… sad, at the thought of leaving any of you.”

“Well we never want you to leave!” Celia loudly spills out and grasps your free hand. “You can stay with us forever if you want to, stay with me. You’re our big sister.”

You squeeze your eyes shut at the stinging that erupts behind your nose.

“I would love to see you all grow up, be there for every sickness and hour of need-”

“But you heard a calling, didn’t you.” Her tone is accusatory and its hurts like she’s hitting you. “The calling that brought you to us is going to take you away again.”

“It is.” You finally admit and look to her, expecting a fit of deserved anger towards you.

She did after all just gift you something amazing and all you have for her is disappointment to return.

You made sure that they knew that one day you would leave but even you almost never know how long it will be before it happens.

You once spent a single day somewhere for a calling and then four years for another, so you had no realistic timeline you could rely on to answer the kids as to when.

But then before you knew it they still latched on to you and relied on you, perhaps on the hope that when the time came you would choose them over it.

But Celia isn’t yelling or crying yet, she simply looks deflated.

“Can’t you just...just stay? I swear I’ll get in less trouble, the others will be willing to help, I know it’s a lot to take care of us but we can help out more.” Celia’s grip on your hand tightens as you two stare at each other, you can see your own reflection in them.

”Please, nobody else cares about us, if you leave…”

“When I leave, you will all be fine. You have all grown so much since the time I’ve been here. I wasn’t led to you because I would be here forever, even though that’s something I would want.”

You explain softly and push Celia’s hair away from her face.

“I came and did what I did and now it’s time to go. I cannot ignore the calling, I am needed somewhere else.”

“But how do you know?” She demands. “How can you know you’re needed somewhere else and that you’re not just supposed to stay here.”

“It’s a feeling.” You say and you wish you could say more.

Celia rubs her nose viciously and you can feel her holding back.

She knows your feelings are not just simply that, she’s seen it plenty of time in action to know which seems to rend her arguments defenseless.

You continue tucking her hair behind her large ears as the tears finally bubble over.

“How d-do you know we won’t die while you’re gone.”

“You won’t.” You try to smile. “I’m not led to places so that if I leave it falls apart again, and I _always_ keep track of those I care about _da’len_. If something happens to you I’ll know.”

Celia allows you to comfort her in silence, leaving you thankful she’s not asking more questions you cannot answer fully.

You sit the both of you against an ivy ridden wall and allow her to let out her feelings until she eventually goes quiet once more, picking at the ridges of the notebook she gifted you as it sits in your lap.

She’s not a quiet thinker but you give her the privacy to do so, she has a lot to consider about her own future now that she knows how things will be changing again.

You wish you could be there for the next part of her life to help her along, you have so much you wish you had time to do, to teach.

But it’s going to have to be enough, it has to be.

“Where are you going to go?” It’s much later into the night when she finally asks, you assumed after she stopped wriggling around that she fell asleep but it appears not to be the case.

“I’m not sure if I’m being honest, I saw something occur but I’m not sure of the exact location. I will find my way there in time.”

“You’re not leaving right away?”

“Not right away. I want to stay until I know the Templars aren’t going on another rampage,” you can still remember the way they stung you, the red mist.

You didn’t think of it at the time but whatever wafted from them felt like lyrium, yet lyrium has always had a fizzier effect when you came in contact with it, never painful.

It’s common knowledge that Templars take lyrium so they take control against mages and you can often feel it in their systems but never has it come in that form.

“Good.” Celia snuggles further into your side and that’s when you finally feel her drift off.

You wait until you’re sure she won’t wake before gathering her in your arms and walking back inside, struggling with the awkward act of carrying someone that in reality isn’t that much smaller than you.

She’s tall for her age and perfectly thick now that she’s fed well, while you are possibly stunted from your own childhood.

Not short for a shemlem lady perhaps but certainly more than most other elvhen you’ve met.

No one stirs as you set her down amongst their midst and she naturally turns into another child and rests.

You pause to gaze at them all while holding your gift to your chest before going to your personal bag and undoing the straps, going through your supplies and carefully placing the notebook with your other precious items.

You gather the stray papers and recognize Celia’s scrawled writing, realizing that you probably won’t have the time for another session with her before you have to leave.

She just got a taste of your people’s knowledge it’s hard to imagine it would end there for her, possibly forever.

Even if she one day wandered into another town with an alienage, or even the dalish if she could find a group, she could be misled with biased information.

Or worse, misinformation.

You sigh and grip the papers, feeling them crumble under your skin before setting them aside and digging with new purpose.

 


	3. Part 3.

 

It turns out there is no reason to be concerned with the Templar menace, as you find out the next day, because they are all gone.

The people are cleaning the mess left behind while others mourn the few that were lost during the struggle, the spilled blood in the streets unnerving to see as you try to gather information.

Regularly most of the shemlems wouldn’t bother conversing with you with a single look at your ears but it seems they’re still shaken by the events and are just as eager as you to know why it happened.

But as you find out along with everyone else, not even the Chantry has any information.

You dare pay a visit to the self professed holy building itself in the wealthier district and there’s already a hoard of people there seeking aid.

Sisters scurry around tending to people while trying to soothe the more angry ones and you overhear a man bark, “What the fuck do you mean they all left? Where did they go? They are supposed to protect us, you were supposed to protect us!”

Some cast the man with a weary look but it seems the most riled around him seem to agree.

The sisters are at a clear loss but look no better than the people they care for and you try to imagine what they went through since the bulk of the Templars lingered around here.

A quick glance at a sister with a black eye and split lip and you know not everyone is as good as you at escaping.

You don’t linger there any longer than necessary and report back to the kids exactly what you heard, that the Templars acted out without warning and then left in the night without so much as a word.

They’re all so relieved that you don’t bring up what the Templar who attacked you the day before said about his no consequence actions, for now they don’t need to worry about what that might indicate.

It takes a few more days to get the actual news by bird, what you were waiting for since you had your calling.

It is not what you expect even with having no expectations and it splashes your innards with ice.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes reduced to ruins, Holiest Justinia dead along with the whole congregation with the explosion leaving a rift in the sky.

You can almost hardly believe it, almost.

“That’s what called to you isn’t it,” Celia doesn’t waste time questioning you on the topic while you cook dinner, it’s early and you were alone until she appeared but you knew she was avoiding mentioning it in front of the others.

“I think it must be.” You say evenly as you stir.

“So it must be bad, really bad.”

You gnaw on your lip, “I’m not always called to bad situations."

“But a lot of the time you are?” You can’t deny that but you’re unwilling to make her worry further.

Something you are currently failing at it seems as Celia clearly imagines you riding off into disaster.

“I’m hoping you all might be out of the reach of danger, from this at least. The Temple is a really good distance from here.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about!”

“I know.” Celia scrunches up her face before dumping herself down in the dirt besides you and helping you cook without another word, for at least a moment.

“Everyone’s excited for you to read tomorrow.” Your throat tightens yet you nod slowly at her still grumpy voice.

“Yes I am as well, I have something special for you guys to listen to it’s a personal favorite of mine. My mother’s favorite as well in fact.”

Celia’s head jerks in your direction but you pretend not to notice.

“Oh, your mom’s favorite. Is it elvhen?”

“Yes but I’m sure the other’s will appreciate it as well, I know it well enough by now that I can read it in plain tongue so no one gets lost.”

“That is good. James is no good at picking up on elvish words so he would probably find it unbearable.” This time it’s your turn to spin to the younger elf at this unexpected tidbit.

“Sweet James? When has he been hearing the elvish language?”

Celia looks sheepish despite her sudden smile which intrigues you more.

“He’s nice, sometimes he lets me practice reading in plain tongue with him.” Celia says which reminds you of the few times that you had indeed come upon him scanning over some worn out book.

You only asked once if he wanted help with anything but he made it clear he preferred reading alone and so you respected that.

“I got mad once while I was...practicing reading and writing elvish, he offered to try to help if he could. But funny thing is that he’s even worse at it than me, so I ended up trying to explain things to him.”

“Are you finding teaching him is helping you as well?” Celia nods her head excitedly and then begins speaking rapidly.

It’s soothing to listen to her talk about something with such vigor and about a topic that’s not related to stealing or abuse of any type.

When you close your eyes you can almost imagine that you’re sitting in a home, safe, listening to your little sister tell you about her day.

A small bubble of a world that could have been, maybe in some other time.

And then it bursts because the other kids stampede in making you chuckle, they can smell a meal over a mile away.

 

It is your last day and you can’t help but feel yourself drag with every movement.

You’re already packed with the supplies that you managed to gather over the past week, you’ve said goodbye to individual kids over the course of time as well.

Not all of them seem to comprehend exactly why you’re leaving but you find different ways of reassuring them before you part ways to find the next.

You’re unsure if this make it easier or harder the further you get, making sure the kids have a sense of closure is important, but then comes of the reality of leaving.

The reading is scheduled for dinner, an unusually large amount of food is served and the kids just seem elated with the fact that they can actually pick and choose what they want.

They settle down with their plates and cups all the while staring expectantly at you as you brandish the chosen book.

No one even attempts to read the simple cover except Celia who’s squinting as her mouth moves silently, eyes brightening as she recognizes the name.

“ _Fen’Harel and his Felassan_ ,” you say with a grin. “It means the Dread Wolf and his Slow Arrow.”

There’s a massive rush of activity once the story is over despite the later hour but you can’t deny you’re excited to watch what the kids have planned.

Apparently your story inspired a hastily put together game, watching two of the _Fen’Harel_ wannabes debate as they knock their phantom bows.

It’s a lot more ruckus than you’re used to for the group but everyone seems positive as they pick rolls, Celia even getting dragged further into the fantasy by sweet James, yourself later included.

It’s the most fun you’ve had with them all in a while as you run around outside the area around the shack, dodging around and gently tackling your opposers to the dirt while allowing them to do the same.

You’re dirty and broken out into a sweat by the time the first little one nods off finally which is quickly followed by more, the older children helping you carry them back inside the shack where they too settle down.

You talk to them until they too fall off to sleep which leaves you and, predictably, Celia awake.

She’s obviously exhausted from the long day but crosses her arms when you mention the dark circles under her eyes, eyeing you with concern as if you’ll disappear if she blinks.

She knows you intend to disappear before dawn while they sleep, that’s when the carriage for the next town over leaves.

You want them to have a fresh start in the morning and feel out whatever changes may come.

“You should sleep.”

“Not tired.” You sit besides her carefully and she hugs her knees to herself.

You can feel her emotional turmoil threatening to spill over once more but her eyes remain glittering, even when you tilt her towards your shoulder to rest.

“I won’t leave for some time still, it’s okay.” You’re surprised by the lack of protests but when you hear her sniffle after a moment you realize why, saying nothing as you simply recline the both of you back against the wall.

You can hardly swallow, hardly breath, and then the sun peeks through the night.

The first rays catch your eyes through the boards and it’s unbearable, craning your neck to peer at Celia who’s still fast asleep.

Her face is still rosy, tear tracks finally drying on her skin and eyelashes.

You take your time removing yourself from under her and carefully resting her in your place, brushing the hair from her face while looking over her features with fondness before pulling away.

You go to your bag and remove the few items you have prepared before slinging it over your shoulder, the sac sitting familiarly against your back.

First you set the elvish song book by Celias’s head, followed by a thick notebook of your own filled to the brim of notes, observations and general thoughts she might find educational as well as interesting.

Tucked inside a number of blank pages waiting to be filled by her own hand with the nice quill and ink placed on top.  

You look around the small space with a sense of finality building up inside, looking over the small sleeping bodies, the creaky walls and ceiling, the downtrodden floor.

It’s small and something not many people would be comfortable living in but… you shake your head.

With one last quiet goodbye that no one hears you leave the shack for good and enter the early morning air, breathing in shakily.

The town is quiet this early except for the others who plan on leaving on the same carriage, no surprise people are moving to another location after what happened with the Templars.

Yet you find yourself doubting other places are off any better than here.

Already the carriage setting out is getting packed full of people, a child clearly awoken before their time wails as his mother coddles him as the father argues that they should be allowed to bring their giant trunk full of belongings.

They apparently didn’t get the memo to only bring what you can carry with you as the fathers face gets increasingly red, spittle flying from his mouth as you approach the man who will be leading the group.

“How do you expect us to survive if we can’t bring our valuables with us and we will not leave them here to be stolen by the filth.”

The lower class Shelmlems that overhear this send scathing looks in the mans direction, the wife having the decency to at least look mortified by her husbands words though she doesn’t shush him.

It appears she simply doesn’t want a dagger in the back during the trip for causing a ruckus, a valid concern judging by the thoughts that flicker now through the others minds.  

“They all paid to be here just like you.” The carriage leader crosses his arms, a sensible man among the rabble.

“Won’t be enough room for all your stuff, leave it here or forfeit your seat, your choice.” The irritating man pounds his fists into the air like a child before finally noticing you standing patiently behind him, his eyes narrowing as he immediately get drawn to your pointed ears.

His lip curling he turns back to the carriage leader before pointing directly at you, “If we tossed the knife ear I could fit my trunk, and maybe at the end of the trip you’ll find your pockets more laden. Sounds like a good deal, does it not?”

Now they both look to you but you simply stand as passively as possible, looking at the carriage man and feeling the shift of his thoughts.

You’d scouted out the options for rides as early as you could, knowing here it would be difficult to find someone willing to cart you even though you offered pay like everyone else.

This man, though not overly fond of elves in general, felt equal distaste for his own people.

A grumpy sort but reasonable, and it seems you made the right decision to wait for his carriage to return.

“Alright,” the leader sniffs and the father mistakenly perks up while sending you a distasteful smirk. “You can take your luggage _and_ your family piss off.”

The surprised man splutters but when it becomes increasingly apparent that that is the final decision he swears loudly and at everyone, his wife now joining in on making a fuss as they are forced to stand at a distance.

While they loudly argue you turn to the carriage leader and allow a small genuine, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Maker, some people need to learn when to shut up.”

You agree with the sentiment whole heartedly but simple nod your head before hiking up your bag, finding whatever small spot that will allow you to have some kind of personal space.

It doesn’t take long for the last of the passengers to arrive, the caravan guards getting into their places as your nerves begin to fray.

You bite your lip until you taste copper, wiping it on the back of your hand but continuing the rough action.

You can almost imagine yourself hopping back off and rushing back to the shack, continuing your life here with Celia and sweet James and all the others.

But even now you can hear the calling and the memory of the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes consumes you, keeping you seated in place even as the carriage lurches into motion at last.

It is as you raise your head for one more look at the town that you see her, blonde hair catching in the slowly rising sun.

She’s clutching your presents against her chest, face flush and disoriented from waking up out of her dead sleep to sprint to where she knew you would be.

And finally a tear leaks from your eye and down your cheek as you raise your hand as if to reach out to her as you always have, Celia’s face crumbling as she waves back to you.

She stands there until you fade from view, having her own feeling that you will never return.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending of what one might consider a very long Prologue! Cheers


	4. Traveling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyday at least once I wish I lived in a fantasy world

You truly forgot how unbearable people can be, but luckily for you the weeks trip you find yourself on reminds you.

In past excursions you normally greatly enjoyed seeing new sights and breaking away from the city, crowds have always bothered but with the kids you could almost shove away the anxiety for their sake.

Yet now you only have yourself to worry about and with no friendly faces to speak of you find yourself perseverating.

You eat meals alone away from the fires when camp is set up, you sleep in nearby brush at night while the shemlems with more funds than you sleep in tents, and you are daily referred to as the ‘wild rabbit’.

No one outwardly harasses you but the treatment truly makes you feel more alone than you already are and even the few children who are on the trip are kept away despite their natural attraction towards you.

The one time a little boy waved at you when you caught him staring his mother scooped him hurriedly away.

You wish you could say they don’t look like they’re much cleaner than you at this point so there’s no need to act like you’ll infect their children, maybe that they cannot in fact catch pointed ear, but you instead do nothing.

You have enough to worry about as it is without causing problems for yourself.

On the night before you’re expected to arrive to the next town you start having the dreams.

You’ve always been a vivid dreamer but it’s usually in places you’ve already been, experiences you’ve already had, and sometimes fantastical places that somehow seem familiar despite their strangeness.

But this dream is dark, muddled and confusing as something whispers incoherently in your ear.

Only a bright flash of green in the wake of red eyes awakes you, startling you into a sitting position as you breath heavily and hold your head.

Judging by the moon you still have a few hours before daybreak but you know you won’t be sleeping a single wink more with the condition of your rapidly beating heart.

You quickly fish out your dream journal out of your bag and write the few details you can remember, drawing the red eyes to the best of your ability, the only thing that seems somewhat familiar.

You poise your quill over the page but nothing comes to you as to where you might have seen them before, drawing a complete blank.

Frustrated, you store the notebook away and run your hands through your hair, grimacing at the feeling of filth under your fingers while trying to remember the last time you had a proper bath.

Even at the shack you had access to old wells nearby where you could dump water over your head in an attempt to clean yourself or the younger kids, using the home made soap to scrub.

Never really feeling fully clean every time, but enough.

It’s that train of thought that has you sneaking away from the camp with your bag in hand.

The group had stopped to fill their water pouches earlier and that’s the stream you head for now, navigating through the darkness with ease until you see it glittering in the moonlight.

You make sure none of the night guards followed you before carefully undressing, savoring how free you feel without your ill fitting clothes hanging off your frame.

When wandering through the wilderness in past years you traveled nude every chance you got, truly a sensation of freedom unlike any other.

You twirl yourself in the moonlight and remember of long ago days as a child, right up until the moment you submerge yourself quickly into the surprisingly chilly waters.

You gasp as you surface before giving a slight shiver, feeling more peaceful than you have in days as if your thoughts wash away with the rest of the grime.

The hardest part is to wash your hair, it always is.

It might seem impractical to keep it as long as you do in a world like this but you can never bring yourself to do it even on the occasion when you’ve had actual shears on hand.

You sigh as you run your fingers through it to rid it of knots, reminding yourself to try to keep care of it like you should be in the first place.

You follow the wet strands down your neck until you feel the familiar patch of skin, an odd feeling always settling in your chest and creating goosebumps when you come in contact with the thin strip of overly smooth flesh that runs over your jugular. 

By the time you’re out of the water and patted dry you actually manage to feel tired enough for a few more hours of sleep as you head back to camp. Creeping silently past the night guards once more, yet still finding a leering gaze directed at you.

Uncomfortable, you fix your damp hair to hang around your face in security, projecting a more neutral stance so to not find someone wandering with you to your sleeping spot.

Thankfully the rest of the night is uneventful and you awaken feeling relatively more prepared to deal with the upcoming days than you did before.

It only takes half a day more to reach your destination, just another town not unlike the one you just left but in the time of your travels more news has reached the people about the situation with the wound in the sky.

Rumors of a person who managed to temporarily close the rift in the sky and staunch the mass of demon flow are on the tip of everyone’s mouth, as is the word Inquisition.

It’s unclear how people feel about this newly developed group, some seem to think they have ulterior motives or are out for a power grab while the chantry is down and suffering.

Others are already considering joining as man power to support the only person who can seem to do anything at the moment.

While still being unaware about your exact needed involvement in the situation you must admit that being around the Inquisition would be very useful for not just basic information of future endeavors but protection from the remaining demons that still roam.

And so you find yourself on the next ride to Haven, one that promises to be more grueling than the last with the concern of smaller rifts and bandits taking advantage of the chaos.

The trip will take around four weeks longer than the last one and so you prepare to make yourself as scarce as possible, not liking the way some of the men on the trip with you seem to watch your every movement.

It was easier traveling when you were a child.

It’s on the third and a half week of travel when you finally see the scar in the sky, something that makes the entirety of your group go silent.

It casts an eerie green light in the night sky yet it’s not comforting like a moon’s glow, but splendent in its own way as it takes your breath away.

No one but you seems to feel the pull it has, like a familiar long forgotten voice that coaxes you to approach it.

You are unsure if this a dangerous thought to have but it is one you have all the same.

Your fellow travelers seem morose that night as they set up camp but you find that they are better company when they quietly contemplate what the future could hold, allowing yourself to sleep closer to the camp.

The weather has steadily gotten colder the last couple weeks and you watch the shemlems build up in layers so to not freeze while they sleep, like bundles of cloth huddling together.

You wiggle your bare toes and wonder what it must be like to be concerned with such things because while heat bothers you, the chill is like a friend.

Surprisingly only one person has asked you about your lack of shoes during the trip, a shemlem woman who commented on your unflinchiness as you walked over a clump of snow as you trailed the carriage to stretch your legs.

Though you were honest in that it just doesn’t bother you, she seemed to find the response more fishy than anything else.

That shemelem is currently doing her time as night watch not far from you, leaning on her sword in thought as she looks up at the rift.

You catch the thought of her hoping her little brother is staying out of trouble while she’s gone, a smatter of freckles and rusty hair _a goofy laugh that triggers her own as they run around with wooden swords_ , making you start.

She must notice your little rustle because she quickly looks at you with slight suspicion, making you roll over and away from her prying eyes.

That was strange, even for you.

After a moment you peek over your shoulder but she’s no longer paying attention to you, nor do you get the strange sensation that you’re invading somewhere personal.

The next day is when you fully realize that something is different, different about you.

You’ve always been able to catch wind of most people’s surface thoughts as if they were words carrying in a breeze, even as a child you found it easy to know people’s intents towards you before they even spoke a word.

But when you needed the quiet in your own mind, or to give other people their own privacy, you could always tune it out.

Now you are struggling.

_His dogs fur is scruffy but he loves to rub his face in it, his favorite companion…. Fear of the rift, fear of the demons, fear of not returning home, fear fear fear…. Kisses, soft and warm as pliable lips part…_

You feel your cheeks burn as you bite your lip, trying not to react in any way to the onslaught of thoughts that compete for your attention.

If you could control it you would feel shame for hearing things so private for each person, you would never want someone invading your own head as you thought unaware.

But it’s getting harder to block it out the closer you travel to the breach and you know instantly that that’s exactly what’s causing it, your nerves tingling in your chest.

You didn’t expect to be affected by it and though it draws you in even now you have to be aware of what it might actually do to you if you allow it to do that.

You’ve done many dangerous things in your life but this feels different and you’re unsure what to make of it.

The day before you’re supposed to arrive at Haven you exhaustedly sit against a tree, rubbing your eyes as you watch the group eat an early dinner.

Your nights have been rather sleepless on top of everything else, leaving you feeling rather ill and thus refusing food when rationed any.

You listlessly find yourself looking at your still blank notebook from Celia, thinking of the younger elf with a concentration but still not finding anything from the ordinary.

You hope that’s a good sign that they are all still getting along okay without you, you check less often now that it’s been… already almost a month.

It’s felt both longer than that and shorter, you wonder if that’s how Celia feels as well.

Or maybe she’s already moved on from you like most of the others in the past, one day your existence slipping from her mind entirely.

“Thinking of someone you left behind?” It’s the shemlem woman from before that sits herself a small distance away from you, casually pulling out her sword to clean more out of habit than need.

You look down at your notebook once more before putting it back in your bag with a sigh.

“Yes, I suppose I am. Not that it helps anything.”

The shemlem woman exhales a short laugh, her mind already thinking of that freckled goofy boy from before.

“I know exactly what you mean. I guess all we can do is hope we do enough so that it’s all still there when we go back, that’s what I tell myself at least.”

You turn away from her slightly, your lips turned into a small smile.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to go back,” you tell her honestly as she pauses polishing her sword.

“But I guess you’re correct in any case, even if I can’t act as guard for everyone else making any kind of a positive difference is the ultimate goal.”

You’re surprised by the slight guilt that crops up as she thinks about how she _only meant to initiate talk with the only other female in current radius and not actually make things awkward._

“Well, then I’m sorry to hear that.” She says genuinely as she fumbles with her rag.

You decide that even if the interest in you is to escape the men for once that you will steer the conversation away to something else.

“It’s nice to see a woman in armor, how’d you learn?”

She brightens visibly as she begins to tell you of her father who used to be a soldier but was wounded but how he wanted to pass on what he knew to her and one day her younger brother.

Her thoughts are bright with the memories of her many training days with her father and kid brother, leading to more thoughts that scatter everywhere and at once from many lovely years.

“I wish I had learned things like that but I never did,” you lie smoothly as you gaze at the rift in the darkening sky.

“The thought of hurting something seems almost unnatural to me, even if it’s a threat against me. I know that must sound weak willed to someone who risks their life for others protection.”

“Ah, you sound just like my brother. He likes learning swordplay but wouldn’t hurt a fly, drives our father mad sometimes. But that’s what people like me are for, to protect the more innocent ones like yourself and him.”

You give the woman a smile that she returns before falling into a comfortable silence, even her mind becoming more muddled as she finished up her task.

“Oh, I’m Louise by the way.” She says after a while, her hand flexing as she wavers unconsciously between shaking your hand or finding that odd.

In the end she decides against it but you’re fine with that.

Physical contact certainly makes exchanges seem more real.

“It’s nice to meet you Louise.” You say, going over choices of what you could say in response and hesitating.

Louise misinterprets your pause and says good-naturedly, “Is it an _elfy_ name? It’s okay if it’s hard to say, I can still try.”

You look at her for a moment before smiling. “You can just call me bunny, everyone else does.”

Louise laughs when she thinks it’s okay to but you can actually feel a nib of regret at the action, as she’s suddenly aware of what she’s exactly laughing about.  

“Oh, um.” She says awkwardly but you wave it off as you stand up.

“I’m tired, I think I’m going to turn in now. Goodnight Louise.”

You are genuinely exhausted, suddenly much more than just moments ago.

You know when you’ve hit a wall. You settle down in your makeshift bed shrouded in large bushes, acting as a strange insulator by their roots.

Through the tiny leaves you can see the scar in the sky glittering, running over your conversation with Louise in your head.

Usually it does not bother you, the insulting title, the laughing, the casualness of it all.

You are not defined by your physical being or your ears, the Dalish woman who ended the blight should have proven that yet such an archaic thought process is rampant in even some of the kindest people. 

Louise fumbles putting her sword back in its sheath as her mind flashes to you before she frowns and starts her night watch, this time taking a station far away from you.

Upon awakening in the morning you find a stone weighing in your chest, making your morning packing difficult as your fingers seem unwilling to listen to your brains commands.

You find yourself running over faces and locations but nothing seems amiss, making you nervous for the rest of the trip.

It’s less than a days travel to finally arrive in Haven yet you find your eyes wandering over every shadow and movement as the carriage begins it movement once more, something is wrong but you’re not sure what yet.

Yet you know, even if you don’t want to admit it, that unless it’s a direct part of the Calling you should not interfere.

The clomp of hooves signals Louise's approach on horseback, making you look up from your spot at the way back of the carriage.

“Hi.” She says hesitantly as if she’s not sure how you will react after your encounter last night, bringing a small genuine smile to your lips.

“Hello, how do you fare?”

“I’m well.” She says as her eyes flick to the person nearly crammed in next to you who isn’t even pretending to not listen in to the conversation.

“Did you...sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.” You can’t help it, despite knowing her exact intentions for the late morning chat you aren’t going to help her along, if it’s something she truly wants to say to you than she will.

It only takes one awkward pause as some of the fellow riders move further up the cart and more out of ear shot that she finally says it.

“Listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what I did.” Louise looks uncomfortable to say the least but you give her the time she needs to get her thoughts out.

“I shouldn’t have laughed at… at you calling yourself a bunny. I’ve seen people call elves rabbit before I know it’s hurtful, I think I’ve gotten so desensitized traveling around that I forgot how it can actually affect people.”

“Hmm.”

“Not that that’s an excuse.” She remedies quickly as she grips her reins tightly.

“I had elvan servants back home that I would have considered friends, I would have felt ashamed if I had acted that way around them. So I’m sorry.”  

“Well I appreciate you saying so despite knowing you could have moved on and never had to say another thing to me.” You tell her as you swing your legs thoughtfully off the end, the man who overheard the conversation next to you clearly disagreeing with what’s been said.

“It wouldn’t have set right, and seeing as we will probably run into each other while in Haven I didn’t want to have that between us. I think now more than ever people need to band together, no matter how different.”

“I...agree.” You say truthfully, looking off towards the tree line distractedly.

“We are all going to have to work together if we plan on saving what’s worth saving.”

Louise nods and seems relieved that you so easily accepted her apology, even if it wasn’t perfect.

But what does perfection matter to you when someone has acted with genuine intent.

“I was wondering if I could have you name, I never got it.” Louise smiles at you, _maybe this could be the start of a-_

You see it before it happens and scream, watching as the projectile hits the side of Louise’s face and topples her off her horse.

She lands heavily before she starts thrashing, “Get it off! Get it off!”

Her piercings shrieks seems to snap people from their stupor as they start yelling and gathering arms and you find yourself already kneeling besides Louise.

Thoughtlessly you grab the burning goop in your bare hands and flinging it off of her, biting your lip in pain.

It’s not good, her skin is raw and bleeding wherever the substance touched as she stares at you with wild eyes as she keeps trying to touch the side of her face.

“Demons! DEMONS!” It’s the cry that you expected, what else could the strange burning goo be from, but you’re unprepared.

You were so distracted with Louise that you weren’t paying proper attention to your bad feeling and now… now you’re hands are burning.

You wipe them off in the snow nearby so that you can safely grab Louise’s hands and pull them away from herself as you use the bottom of your oversized shirt to blot at her skin to make sure you at least got it all off.

“You have to get up,” your voice sounds eerily calm now as you help her to her feet, Louise’s eyes starting to look a little clearer as the sounds of battle reach her ears.

The people like yourself who are not armed with weapon or armor have already fled into the woods, one of which whose passing hits you like a punch to the stomach even though they’re no longer close.

But everyone else is engaged with the sudden wave of demons that come through the trees, a disarray of creatures like you’ve never seen before.

One approaches where you and Louise stand but she cuts it down, breathing heavily as she wipes the fluids from her face.

“Run to the road, Haven can’t be that much further. I’ll cover you and make sure you have a chance.”

You want to argue as you look at her but nothing passes your lips, because what can you say. You can’t fight and if you stay you only put them in danger because they’ll try protect you.

Well, some of them would.

“Okay, I’m going to get help.” You agree as you hike your bag up on your shoulders, clenching your jaw as you feel somebody else pass.

Louise nods to you before launching herself at another demon with a yell, leaving you to take off running as fast as you can.

It’s not difficult for you to escape as it seems everyone around you are completely preoccupied, leaving you to crash through brittle branches until you’re back on the road.

Someone else made it this far as well but he lays unmoving on the path, whatever killed him has apparently moved on to the main battle already.

You give a wide birth around the body before running off again, making sure to keep the distant signs of Haven in eyesight.

You’re breath is ragged when you come around a curve and you curse yourself for not taking care of yourself when a sharp pain has you keeling over.

You only have a short intake of air before you’re vomiting horribly as you feel Louise’s life snuffed like a candle on a windy day, her anguish loud to you as she _only wants to see her family once more_ …

Moisture leaks down your nose as you attempt to catch your breath but you wipe it away, getting to your feet and slowly turning around upon realizing you aren’t alone.

It’s a demon shaped like the misty remnants of a person that looms at an arm’s reach away and has decided to trail after you.

You hadn’t even noticed it with all the other mental noise going on consider it’s own words are whispered as if far away, too low for you to still hear.

You don’t have much experience with spirits of any kind, you aren’t a mage, but you would expect demons to feel differently.

You stiffen as it floats closer but you don’t feel malevolence, though you’re not exactly comfortable.

But whatever was to happen is interrupted by arrows piercing through the demon from over your shoulder as someone else lands on the ground from a tree behind you.

“Oy, you alright?” A man asks and you’re more than a little alarmed to see he has a mask obscuring his face before feeling his actual intent.

“Forget me, the caravan was attacked they need help.” You hurriedly explain as you point him in the right direction, watching figures moving like shadows among the trees when the man signals it before disappearing.

You’ve seen plenty of rogues in your time but not well trained ones like that, you’re surprised the Inquisition already has such people on its side.

“I shall escort you safely to Haven,” the man motions for you to walk with him and so you do, after a moment.

You feel incredibly weak as you trudge along but your guide is patient with your slow pace, his mind busy with different things he must do as well as concern for your well being.

You must look as good as you feel.

“We can get you set up in a place when we arrive, be rest assured that we will get to your caravan in time to save people.” You think of Louise and feel your stomach clench.

“Oh yes, thank you.”

“You were very brave running ahead to get help, a lot of people would have seen the demons and froze.”

He’s trying to make you feel better and so you give him a weak smile.

“I appreciate that ser.”

_Is she dalish, she doesn’t look like a city elf._

You can’t see his eyes but you know he keeps glancing at you as you walk, making you realize now for the first time that the hooded man you talk to certainly is another elf.

You’ve met Dalish clans during your travels but to have a position of authority in a human run construct… interesting.

And wonderful.

“If you don’t mind my asking ser, are you Dalish?” You ask innocently and point to your own ears, watching him straighten up.

The Dalish do certainly seem to be full of pride no matter where they go.

“Why yes, I am.”

“The Inquisition than, they accept everyone’s help? I couldn’t imagine it when I heard.”

Already at your questioning he seems unsure of what he should say but you wait patiently.

“Aye, they’re accepting help where they can find it.” _Yet I work under the Spymaster, no need to tell her she may as well end up a kitchen maid with her expertise though._

A spymaster, interesting.

You’ve read of such people existing but normally they operate in Orlais where the game is thick, so if such an organization exists as a part of the Inquisition you will have to tread carefully.

“I cannot do much in the way of sword but I’m sure I can do something in the kitchens,” you say smoothly as you finally see the front gates as the Dalish (obviously) agrees with your reasoning.

“Every bit helps.” He says before greeting the guards at the gate who peer at you with variations of disinterest.

When the gates are opened you finally see the people busting about, their thoughts creating a fog that hangs overhead as you enter.

It’s the most diverse flock you’ve seen in a very long time and while it’s overwhelming to the senses you can’t help but feel as though you fade right into the background.

It’s perfect.

“Welcome to the Inquisition.”

 


	5. Intigration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters may be absurdly long but I write this on my laptop so it's really hard to tell

 

You take a full day to rest when you are given an actual cot to sleep on and it’s a bliss like no other to bury your face into even a scratchy pillow.

It’s in a room packed full of other elvan that go about their business as if you aren’t even there, the herd of them headed to the simple kitchens that were erected as a more efficient way to feed all the people.

But when the day passes and you find yourself asking if they need help with anything and getting an underwhelming response you come to understand why, the Inquisition is a mess.

The stress in the air becomes more palpable the more people continue to show up over time because there simply isn’t enough room or things for everyone to do.

Bulks of training soldiers train outside the gate with the blonde commander which keeps them busy, the Inquitions spies filter in and out of the large tent that you’ve yet to approach and people with actually clear job titles run around doing whatever they respectfully do.

But there’s a lot of loitering for the everyday people at the tavern or by the fires that seem to feel similarly to you.

_How do I fit into this._

You take the advantage of your anonymity for the time being by avoiding the very few scattered Templars and mages about and simply observe what most you can before you inevitably find what is it you were called for.

You were unpleasantly surprised to find out that there are in fact Templars here but they don’t sting like the ones from Celia’s town and unlike them as well they only seem to act rashly when mages are involved.

In fact when you accidentally ran face first into one of their armored chests while accidentally eavesdropping on an interesting thought the man did nothing but laugh at your stunned expression and steer you in a new direction before walking away.

It makes you think that perhaps what happened with the Templars before was out of the ordinary.

With what you’ve learned the Templars have left the Chantry like you’d witnessed whether they went back to their order or joined the commander here doesn’t seem to matter because the only ‘red Templars’ that have been sighted so far are the ones in the Hinderlands where they fight rebel mages.

You wish you knew more about the red lyrium people whisper about but the only man who seems to know anything real about it isn’t even here, out with the person himself who can seal rifts on a mission with the rest of his personal group.

You sigh to yourself as you only half legibly write in your notebook as you gaze with glassy eyes to the scar in the sky.

It’s much closer here and seems to gather clouds around it like the eye of a storm but never shedding rain, just further tightening around it.

In theory you could walk yourself over and possibly check out the anomaly yourself like you’ve wanted to since seeing it, yet even if you could slip past the soldiers that have to be watching over the ruined temple you also have to worry about the Spymaster’s people.

They haven’t paid you any special attention, or any at all, since the Dalish elf who helped you here but they do seem to linger right outside the line of vision.

For what purpose exactly you’re not sure but if they’re anything like you, documenting the people the people’s activities, you need to continue to not stand out.

Of course it’s not inconspicuous to sit on the roof like you are but it’s the quietest place you could find here.

It’s a small cluster of buildings on the outskirts of Haven where not many people find themselves, creating a quiet space for you to sit.

Thankfully. Even their thoughts are kept at a distance leaving you time to actually hear your own inner voice, going over locations and faces but finding nothing new.

You sigh once more as your quill runs in lazy circles around the paper as you stare into the distance, around and around and around…

“Would you cease that noise, I can hardly focus.”

You’re so genuinely surprised at being spoken to that the quill slips from your fingers before floating off the roofs edge and gently landing on the speakers head.

You get on your knees and peer over to the ground, watching as the elvhan man gracefully plucks the feather from his dome and inspects it before looking back up at you.

Against your will you feel the tips of your ears burn as you meet his stern gray gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You say quietly, you didn’t notice how your foot was tapping but it hadn’t even occurred to you that someone could inside.

Sure, you’d seen a candles light burning at night but you never sensed someone actually occupying the space.

“I come here for the quiet so I would never want to disrupt someone else's.”

He watches as you quickly tuck your notebook away into your bag before sliding to the ground with it on your shoulders, where it always is.

He extends his slender fingers and presents your quill back to you which you quickly take and put away.

“It is not usually a problem.” The elvhan man tilts his head. “Today was the acception.”

You shift your stance, something is off.

“You… stay here?” You question as he raises an eyebrow in a clear answer, but that’s all you get.

You tentatively reach out with your senses but all is quiet, _quiet._  

It’s only you once more in your head and it’s nearly dephening in the sudden silence, making it al the more clear how much of a blank wall the elvhan man in front of you is.

You’ve met hard to read people but this is a complete nothing and it’s… well…  unnerving.

“I’ve just never seen you before.” You push out when you realize you’ve not said anything in a suspicious amount of time, feeling the same amount of urge to run from this unexpected development as dig deeper to find out what is happening.

“And usually when someone finds me atop their quarters they chase me off.”

It takes a moment but his face seems to lose its initial hardness, maybe he can sense your nervousness but maybe that’s being paranoid.

You twist your finger in your long locks and drag them further into your face.

“It is not a bad place to rest, it is why I chose it.” He clasps his hands behind his back but never looks away from you.

“You got to choose the location? That’s very lucky, most of us got stuffed into one room upon arrival.”

How did he manage to get his own space?

You would think there would be complaints especially since he’s an elf and most of the shemelems don’t even have their own privacy.

Yet now that you think about it you did hear the other elves whispering about an apostate in their midst, as if all mages aren’t ‘apostates’ at this point, and the fact that they hated bringing food to him.

“Forgive me, but actually is your name Solas?”

“It is.” If he reacts in any way to you knowing about him it doesn’t show, he keeps his face remarkably neutral.

It’s a skill that you wish you owned, you can retreat and be hard to notice at all you if you want yet you know your face can give it away at times.

One of the many reasons for your habits.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” so maybe he took offense, it’s so hard to tell. “I’ve merely heard your name in conversation is all.”

“Oh?”

You have never struggled so much with a single conversation, usually people take over with talking so all you have to do it mostly sit back and listen.

“Yes,” you reply rather awkwardly, feeling your ears burn further when Solas continues to simply look at you, does the man never give up eye contact?

You swallow as you adjust your bags straps, finally giving in to the urge to flee.

“I think I must be going, I have...things to do.” You could slap yourself silly, what an atrocious lie.

What is the matter with you?

“Indeed, things must always be attended to.” Solas inclines his head and for some reason you feel like you’re being _allowed_ to leave.

You are unsure how else to escape this experience except to duck your head and turn tail, only getting a few steps before Solas’ low voice reaches you again.

“Wait, might I acquire your name?”

You look over your shoulder at the still figure that could otherwise be a statue if you hadn’t just been speaking to him yourself.

A name? He wants your name.

What name would you have told Louise if you had ever been able to get the words out to her, what would these people know you as.

You’ve come up with many over the years, names are a pretty thing in fact, but now only one seems to stick out to you.

“You can call me Fayette.” It feels unnatural to say it out loud as your heart beat picks up, causing you to swallow thickly as you finally turn away once more to head further into Haven.

You are flooded with thoughts the more distance between you and the strange mage, giving you no time to think of what your decision could mean as you finally allow yourself to breath.

 

You can’t bring yourself to go back immediately no matter how much you like the quiet of Solas’ roof, the encounter was so short yet uncomfortable that it physically keeps you from returning.

You regret trying to further conversation with him while you were still so caught off guard with his being unreadable, you’re sure you’ve never come off as so suspicious and ineloquent to anyone before.

Not to mention that one of your afterthoughts may confirm that Solas is a part of the Original Group, why else would he have gotten to pick a whole house to himself and servants delivering meals.

You had thought the Original Group all left with the man in charge however, so what does it mean that Solas was left behind.

You have a great many questions surrounding the mage but no way to find out the answers, for once a great frustration in the fact that you cannot hear off of him.

You reason that so long as Solas continues to never leave his home you have a choice in interacting with the man because the danger of the situation is not lost to you in any sense.

Usually you know when people have bad intent against you with just one feeling, or now a thought as well, and can act accordingly that will get you out with the least amount of damage in the long run.

But Solas has either something or _is_ something that blocks you out completely as well as everything around him and you wonder if his companions know that, perhaps they do and that’s why they leave him behind.

But then why have him in the Inquisition at all?

You speculate all you want worriedly but another part of you can’t help but feel bad for assuming the worst in a first meeting alone.

Just because you haven’t experienced such a person yet doesn’t make them an immediate threat, perhaps he is just different, as you are.

Nearly everyone you’ve ever met has judged you upon how you look as well, not even accounting your ears.

And so you find yourself climbing up onto his roof again, even though it’s as quietly as possible so not to draw his attention to you.

You can tell he’s inside because you’re once more soothed with silence but from here you can’t even attempt to hear in on his activities though you suspected there wouldn’t be much considering you hadn’t already.

So you decide on reading for the time, giving your hand a break from the quill in favor of a story you can afford to half pay attention to.

You’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed when Solas fails to show his face for the next day as well, the only other visitor besides yourself being the fidgety maid that delivers his meals and seems to send you disapproving looks whenever she catches sight of you.

You wonder what she thinks of you just hanging around an apostate’s quarters like you are but once again Solas’ space cancels it out and maybe that’s for the best.

Finally however upon arrival back in the afternoon after running off to finally feed yourself a meager meal, your head is still filtering thoughts which can only mean Solas for once has left.

You don’t entertain the thought for long as you instinctively go for the roof but it’s enough to hold your attention suddenly, hoping no one sees your awkward stall as you know it’s bad.

You make sure no one is around before peeking in his window quickly, catching sight of furniture and piled paper as well as books.

You nibble at your lip for a second before trying his door, finding it unlocked and easing his door open before slipping inside.

You feel guilty about the invasion but it’s certainly not your first time doing such a thing, not that you even had to break in here technically.

It’s not even that you plan on deeply snooping since you’re not sure how long he will be gone you just want a picture of what kind of a person he could be.

Maybe it’s none of your business… but you’re curious.

He doesn’t have a lot of personal items despite the space being clearly lived in, his beds sheets pulled back in a giant sweep and folded clothes being the only regular sign someone lives here nearly all day.

You skim the many loose or bound papers about and admire Solas’ neat writing as you go along, picking up on bits and pieces of information but nothing sticking out largely except for the fact that he seems to be the scholarly type.

His books and writings alike go from topics such as herbology to elvhan literature to the study of spirits, fascinating topics that have you nearly aching to crack the cover open and just take a peek at the words inside.

So you really can’t help it when you do, quickly picking up the book cover of something you’d always wanted to read but never had the coin for.

This must have cost something pretty but you can’t imagine the Inquisition has the wages to spare for something like this, so maybe a personal book of his.

You pace as you skim as much information from it as you can in the next few seconds, grinning to yourself as you stack away the information for later so you can write it down for yourself.

You haven’t seen this many well taken care of books in one place for what should be considered a crime.

“Is it as customary for you to enter one's home as it is for you to sit upon one's roof?”

You sink your teeth into your lip as you slowly turn to look at Solas who has apparently arrived back, involuntarily your mind seeking your possible escape routes despite your calm demeanor.

“If it helps, I know what I did was wrong.” You say weakly, closing the book slowly though you can’t help but keep a thumb tucked between the pages in a hope you can somehow get out of this.

There is only a subtle crease between his brows but you take it as a sign that he may be irritated, hoping his lips naturally turn down like that.

“It does not, for you still did it. And for what purpose?” He’s not standing imposingly but you still feel rooted to the spot as he walks forward, turning the book over a little more harshly than needed to see what you have your hands on.

“Would you believe it’s because I saw your collection of books?” You offer, for it is not a complete lie.

You had gotten distracted from your original purpose, and so easily too.

His eyebrows plunge slightly further.

“I am sorry for entering without your permission but I’ve only ever read the second of this duology, the first of it used to be banned and burned so now very few copies actually remain.”

You nervously eye the jaw bone that dangles from the mages neck as he actually releases the book and straightens up, allowing you to shrink away.

Solas says nothing as he regards you, definitely speculating on how truthful you’re being.

“And what did you think of the second book?”

“Hypocritical to what the _true_ author surely meant it to be, nothing worse than censorship in literature.”

Silence.

“A sound insight.” Solas breaks away and you finally feel as though you can breath again.

“Though for someone who seems to have educated opinions you have less than savory behavior.”

“Those two are not mutually exclusive things.” You say as you slowly make your way towards the door just so you feel less trapped.

“But I do apologize, I shouldn’t have gotten ahead of myself and come in here even if I wanted to get a look at this.”

You’re still holding the book so you put it back down on a table, feeling the loss of the page but knowing you need to focus on conversing.

Solas stands a comfortable distance away with his hands once more clasped behind his back.

His eyes roam for anything else you may have touched but you were careful in your ruffling around.

“While I admire your… thirst for knowledge I would ask that you find me before you touch my personal belongings next time.”

“I understand.” You duck your head to avoid his ever present eye contact but you seem to have side stepped his anger for now, you’ve gotten a much worse reaction for a lot less.

“Your name was Fayette, was it?”

You nod.

“Not many have the capabilities to read or write, did you learn it in your clan?” So light questioning is the response, you should have suspected this wouldn’t end there.

You’ve been outwardly interrogated in the past and the easiest thing to do is be as honest as possible when being questioned.

“I never lived in a Dalish clan.”

“A city dweller than?”

“Preferably not, my mother and I lived alone and in several places but she was the one who taught me. She wanted me to pick up on things while I was still young so I could work on them as I got older.”

“Seems a wise thing. Yet you find yourself here instead of some scholars table?”

You lean against the table behind you and make sure it won’t tip,

Solas standing rod ram straight.

You can feel the gentle probing of magic in the room but you’re not sure if you can react to it, usually only mages or Templars can sense magic and you don’t want to give the impression that you might be hiding something.

Unlike Solas himself his magic feels pleasantly ticklish when it brushes against you, causing your ears to burn as you do your best to subtly lean away from it.

“You hear about a rift opening in the sky and demons coming from the fade, it almost sounds like the end of times. But so many lives are at stake I guess it’s only natural for people of all kinds to band together to try and make a difference.”

Solas’ chin tilts as he considers your words.

“So you come to the Inquisition to make a difference which includes sitting on a roof all day and breaking and entering for books.”

If he’s making a joke it’s a dry one and you feel yourself bristle despite yourself, feeling a tendril poke at your bare feet and the cracked injured palm of your hand.

You do not think it’s worth it to show any kind of reaction to Solas’ seeming disapproval at your actions versus words, you have been purposefully trying to keep out of things after all to adjust and figure out your exact purpose here.

You could see how he could possibly view this as indolent, or maybe you’re thinking too much about it.  

“I find myself wondering Solas, how did you find yourself here. It seems an unlikely place for a mage to go seemingly of his own accord especially with Templars and a Seeker alike here.”

You turn it on him in a casual deflection. He accepts it easily and lowly motions his hand.

“I was there when the chaos was fully ensuing. I had a similar realization that something had to be done and simply found myself there in the battle. I do not believe Seeker Pentaghast  would have allowed my presence if I hadn’t been the only one who could stabilize her prisoners condition.”

“The prisoner as in the man who can close the rifts. Is it true then, he walked out of the fade itself and survived the explosion?”

“It is.”

“You say you treated him, you have such expertise?”

“I do, though I merely monitored him while I administered healing. I was unsure of how to proceed with the mark on his hand.”

You blink at him owlishly and Solas raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

“You know healing magic?” You can’t help but ask, feeling something akin to excitement flicker in your chest but you’re careful not to show it.

It’s not known to the common folk but healing magic is one of great difficulty to know and not commonly sought out to learn, destructive magic even being the usual to teach to the circle magi because it is more naturally learned.

“I do.” Solas replies, standing even straighter as you dare to walk just a little closer.

It feels odd to shorten the distance between the both of you even slightly but for some reason you’re not as tight strung as before.

Not quite.

“Do you think maybe… well could I witness it? I’m fascinated by healing magic, I’ve read books on it and it’s amazing some of the things that can be accomplished if you’re good enough at it. Did you know it’s actually beneficial to know bodily anatomy if you plan on being a healer because the focused imagery of what you’re specifically healing can… oh well I suppose you might already know.”

You blather embarrassedly as Solas undoubtedly patiently waits for you to stop talking to him of things he must be an expert at.

You cannot tell his exact age but he must be older than you, he certainly gives off a more self assured air than most people you’ve met elvhan or not.

He seems more experienced in life than yourself even, and you’ve had a full life though on the younger side.

Solas’ lips press together before he meets you in the middle of the room with an outstretched hand.

You look between him and his extended mandible in confusion before realizing he means to heal _you,_  looking at your wound before placing your hand against his.

You’re so used to working around the inconvenience of pain that you don’t really notice injuries anymore, you always heal eventually whether you interfere or not.

The thought crosses your mind that he could do anything to you now that you’re allowing yourself a momentary vulnerable moment for the experience, but he could have done anything from the time he caught you intruding to now and he hasn’t.

May that speak for what it may. His free hand flickers to life with a green aura when it meets your skin and you jolt slightly at the sensation but Solas seems to be focused on his new task, not paying you any mind.

You gather yourself and turn your attention to what’s being done despite your extreme awareness of your personal stranger bubble being invaded.

This magic feels warmer than what was touching you before and sets deeper into your skin like a heavy cream all the way to your delicate hand bones. Watching, the cracked skin burns pleasantly for a second before it starts to seal itself into pink lines and then smooth skin as your palm becomes new.

You flex your fingers and feel numbness but feeling is already starting to return by the time that your hand drops to your side again.

“That’s amazing it’s like it never happened.” You say more to yourself than Solas who is watching your reaction through narrow eyes before you turn to him.

“Thank you, truly. I must write of this experience in detail.”

“Think nothing of it, it is what I am here for.” He says as you step away and head for the door, seeing this as a good opportunity to leave and being half distracted with remembering every detail of your healing.

Solas has exceeded your expectations with the encounter and now you are simply more curious than before, and more excited to see what he knows, what you could know.

You pause at the doorway and look at your hand before glancing at Solas. He has hardly moved or given away anything but you have what you might consider to be a good feeling, for now, about continuing your interactions with him.

“Until next time then?” He looks as though he will say nothing in response for the moment as he’s already reaching for his work and flipping through it, his attention already seemingly on to the next thing.

But when you turn away with a slightly anxious fizz in your chest you manage to catch, “I would think you’d show up even if I had words against it.”

And that is that, you leave feeling strangely jittery and welcome the fresh cool air that greets you.

If your interaction with Solas does anything it’s make up your mind on the fact that you should start to engage more.

Now that someone has had two extended encounters with you as well bothered to remember your name, there is some way to document your exact existence here.

Someone who would remember you were here if you were ever found suspicious and had to flee.

It is true that there are no duties to speak of for mundane tasks anymore like the rest of your ilk, but nor do you want to simply just continue to observe.

On the other side of the spectrum of mess the Inquisition faces are the people who are not having their needs met who already do work for them, supplies is scarce and very few are such things as trained herbalists or even iterate enough to fetch books and scrolls needed between people.

For the most part no one seems to object when you offer help even if they’re confused as to how you _exactly_ know they need aid with something on some occasions.

You only get turned down a handful of times for not looking proper enough for their peculiar standards but there’s not much you can do with that, while only twice called a knife ear.

Ellen is a human mage training to be a healing specialist who requires you to spend glorious hours away from Haven’s walls to fetch as much elfroot as you can carry so she can repeatedly attempt to perfect her potion.

Daniel the blacksmith's son lets you brush out the few horses the Inquisition has ownership of while he cleans out their stalls and the apothecary Adan is in need of someone who can find his master Taigen’s lost research.

The man Adan thinks in annoyance that he did _ask someone else to do this weeks ago_ but they apparently never obliged to actually do it, leaving you to try to find your own way to the abandoned house in search.

It’s luckily not a fair distance from Haven itself but does force you to walk by all the soldiers who still continuously train in the yard, some of whom can’t seem to help themselves when they make low comments to you as you pass them.

Their commander stands within eye reach but is scolding a man for his weak form instead of paying attention to the others, the initial fear of their thoughts sending you scampering away faster.

Your jaw clenches as you reach the house and push your way inside carefully so not to disrupt the fallen beams.

You should not have to worry of such things while trying to complete a simple duty, it is infuriating.

You berate yourself for not hissing something poisonous back but anything that could turn into open confrontation is not the way to react, not in that moment at least.

While you’ve certainly so far been treated fairly well by the people you’ve interacted with you don’t know what kind of a man this commander is yet, if he were to have gotten involved would he blame you just because you’re not human?

A breath huffs out between your lips as you try to instead of focusing on what you came for, scanning over papers but not finding anything of interest yet.

There are some formulas that you store away for yourself later because no one else seems to want them before you finally stumble upon exactly what Adan needs.

You read through it carefully and are impressed by the details but otherwisely it holds no further interest with you.

With the papers in hand you remove yourself from the crippled building, finding some nice stalks of elfroot on the way back for the next time Ellen may need you to run out before feeling the buzz of approaching energy.

You curiously round the corner and see in the short time you were gone that a party has arrived back at Haven with a large force of horses being carefully guarded.

The uncouth soldiers from before not stand with rapt attention for whoever the group is, a man with dark hair and scruff from his journey seems to lead them and has already dismounted from his own steed.

As he converses with what you can only guess is the stable master who has finally arrived.

The three others who travel with him are undeniably some of the people you’ve been hearing about, the short haired woman must be Seeker Pentaghast with the formal way the soldiers who interact with her act both outwardly and inwardly.

The golden dwarven man must be Varric who is the one who knows of the red lyrium but whoever he speaks with is lost on you.

She’s definitely a rogue judging by the daggers strapped to her but she almost looks childish in her round face and soft features, not that you’re one to talk.

“Good to see you have all returned safely, Harald.”

The blonde commander approaches them in a familiar manner but you sense his unease for the man he speaks to even from here, realizing now some others in the vicinity feel much the same.

“Cullen, there is much to discuss.” No time for pleasantries it seems, the man pronounced to be the Herald coldly hands his horses reins away to a random terrified elf.

“Call the war council, I will be waiting.”

It’s as the man peels his gloves off that you can finally see where the energy you sensed was coming from, the glowing scar across his palm causing you to stare as if in a trance.

Whatever it is it is connected to the scar in the sky and feels similarly as if you long to walk over and somehow peer deep inside it.

But the Harald is already entering Haven’s gates and the urge lessens with it with it out of sight, watching his team stream in behind him as the horse master is led to the stables.

This time no one even glances at you as you pass by to enter Haven yourself, allowing you to slip undisturbed right past Varric who seems to be setting up a spot by a campfire already with his mind clouded over as he thinks deeply about something.

Passing the tavern there’s an uproar as the blonde elf chugs a pint as her friends chant, “Sera! Sera! Sera!” Handing her another when she’s done with the first.

“It’s good to be back inna it!” She loudly shouts as you pass by the window, you can examine the new arrivals after you deliver your papers but for now leaving them be may be the best course of action.

Adan is truly ecstatic when he sees the documents and even tips you for your services despite you saying the task itself wasn’t that hard, but he insists you keep it as he rabbles his assistant into working straight away.

You add the coins to your bag as you leave, stretching for a moment as you look towards the old Chantry building where they must be meeting this very moment.

You listen in but it’s quiet which means Solas is still in his home, you wonder who is usually called to the meeting if not the very people that helped the Harald create the Inquisition.

Varric is supposedly one of the starting members too yet he was not called as well.

You find yourself in front of Solas’ door but delay rapping your knuckles on the wood as you roll back onto your heels anxiously.

You have no real reason to talk to him again what if he thinks it’s odd that you keep trying to occupy the same space as him.

His roof and then his room, you’ve invaded both and yet he was gracious enough to let you stay, despite his less than happy reaction to the second one.

You stand there long enough trying to consider what you could say to him that suddenly you find yourself standing in front of an opened door and looking up into gray eyes.

He doesn’t look even a little surprised to find you there which is unnerving but you give him a strained smile, trying to not appear as awkward as you definitely feel.

“Hello Solas, I just saw the party arrive back.” You say watching his eyebrow raise every so slightly.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and I saw the Harald and his mark. I was wondering if you could tell me about it?”

You don’t bother in trying to explain why you’ve been standing on his doorstep this whole time as you tuck your hands behind yourself, very much unintentionally mirroring Solas’ posture.

“Why would you want to know of such things?” He outwardly questions with a small crease between his eyebrows.

You feel small under his gaze but put a small smile on your face the best you can.

“I would think by now you would know by now my curiosity needs to be sated before I cause problems for someone trying to figure it out myself, yes?”

You wonder if he will invite you inside again and if you’ll be able to peek around some more at his books while you talk.

But it’s as if he reads _your_ mind because he motions for you to fall back outside as he follows and shuts his door.

You trail behind him the short distance it takes to get to the stone wall that overlooks the hill down to Haven, and while you’re disappointed to not go inside the crisp air makes you feel more clear headed.

It’s cold enough today that your breath floats out as you exhale and stings your nose as you inhale, watching the plume disappear into the suns rays.

You look to Solas and feeling the corner of your lip quirk as the light bounces off his hairless head, schooling your features barely in time for him to face you.

“What is it that you want to know about the Harald’s mark?” Solas crosses his arms as you watch a hawk fly overhead, genuinely considering what you should ask him.

“Well, what does it actually do?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“I think everyone has heard, to some extent or another. He can close the rifts that have opened up but what does that mean? It is a tear in the veil, is it not, which means that it leads to the fade. How can such a thing even exist?”

You don’t bother holding back on your questioning as everything you’ve been curious about can’t help but spill forth, it’s been so long since you’ve had a proper conversation with anyone who seems as educated as yourself.

“And if demons can get through and be apart of the physical world wouldn’t that imply that we would possibly be able to do the same with the fade? But at least according to the Chantry that’s how the blights corruption started, not that _that_ means much, so is it possible the Harald somehow being in the fade could have caused another disruption like that?”

Your fingers itch to grab one of your notebooks and make sure those are the all the points you had been thinking on since you arrived, having no one to talk to always leaves you to write everything down so you don’t feel yourself go crazy.

But you quickly forget about reaching into your bag when you see something quite shocking, the ghost of a smile on Solas’ lips.

It’s such a small difference from his usual exterior but you can see it in the way his eyes curve and the tilt of his head, narrowing in on how the shadows cut his jaw line.

A slow heat creeps up your neck and you avert your eyes, twisting a strand of hair painfully around a finger.

“You have given the situation a lot of thought, very well.”

His hand moves vaguely as he speaks.

“The mark on _his_ hand can close rifts and for the moment has also stopped the Breach from spreading, healing the veil, though leaving it weakened in those areas. Yet we are not sure of what caused it or how it connects to the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, nor does he remember how he came to possess it. However while I studied the mark I came to conclusion that it is magic despite him not being a mage, how such a thing can be is still currently unknown.”

His brief smile disappears as fast as it came as he starts explaining, you getting the distinct impression that he dislikes saying he _doesn’t_ know something.

“As for the consequences of him possibly walking into the fade, do you not believe in elvhen gods?”

You’re surprised by the sudden shift in conversation but then again it makes sense to ask about your beliefs if he’s going to talk about what it could all mean.

“Well, I’m not Dalish as I’ve mentioned before so no I don’t _warship_ elvhen gods but that does not mean I don’t believe they existed. Just as I don’t believe in the Maker or Andraste being his bride but she was a real person.”

You pause as you consider, drawing your lip between your teeth.

The things you know, the things you feel…

“That is to say I don’t know what to believe, I like to keep myself open so I can learn as unbiasedly as possible.”

His eye contact is still as unsettling but you don’t get the impression that he’s scrutinizing you as before, no he almost looks curious now.

You know your personal views on such things are unusual in a world where the Maker dominates beliefs, the only exceptions being elves and dwarves but even then some of their numbers are Andrastian.

Solas does not have Vallaslin on any of his visible skin so you doubt he considers himself Dalish which hopefully means he won’t be offended like most of the elves who happen to learn of your stance.

Solas’ lips part like he intends to say something but then they close again, his eyes finally flickering away from yours as he seems to consider his next thoughts.

You wish once more that you could take a peek into his thoughts even if that’s wrong, you imagine his way of thinking would be fascinating.

Eventually he seems to settle on not speaking on what he originally seemed to want to, settling for saying, “Then in my opinion, no, the Harald’s presence itself in the fade would not cause a major disruption. However that might depend on what he actually did while there, though once again we have no way of knowing what that could be. I would think however we already would have seen the consequences, if there were any.”

You sigh, “That is a sort of relief I must say.”

“I have studied it extensively in my travels, though I only wish I knew more about the mark. Even when I walked in the fade I was offered no answers.”

You look at Solas visibly perplexed, _in the fade_ ? He says it so naturally that for a moment it doesn’t even register at first but that’s definitely what he said, and he almost looks as though he _wants_ you to ask about it.

Instead you wrack your mind for information as quickly as you can until you come to a conclusion.

It’s something you’ve only read about a very few times in very select books and that’s simply because it’s such a rare talent to have, and a dangerous one.

“Could you be perhaps… a somniari?” You ask him quietly, looking around keenly but once more nobody even seems aware that the two of you exist.

And there’s that smile again, well, almost smile.

“I am surprised you know of such things.”

“I have a lot of random information stored away, but I’ve never met a somniari before or even know that much about them. You must tell me what it’s like to walk through the fade, oh and can you really invade other people’s dreams and… well…”

His eyebrow raises in what you hope is amusement, “Oh I _must,_ must I? Very well, yes I can wander the fade while I sleep, into dreams if I so choose to, hurt the dreamer I ever had the desire to. But I don’t.”

“What is it like though, to walk in the fade. I’m an avid dreamer but what you do is on a whole other scale.”

And so you launch into a lengthy conversation with Solas, feeling the stress leave your shoulders the longer you talk.

It’s different than talking with Celia was even though some of the topics end up overlapping but you find yourself enjoying it, and just like with Celia you feel as though you’re learning just as much information as you’re giving out.

If anything you feel as though you have to keep your mind focused to you can take in and store all of the things Solas tells you in your already full brain.

He’s absolutely brimming with information on so many things you feel as though you can’t pick at him enough with the time you spend with him, eventually he excuses himself from your questioning but you get a feeling, a small one, that maybe he expects to find you back soon so he can teach you even more.

He is interesting, smart, and dangerous.

Not only a mage but a dream walker as well, you will have to keep a closer eye on him.

His smile flashes through your mind as you lay in your cot that night, your arms tightening around your pillow.

A closer eye on him indeed.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delays with chapters, I have to work around (currently) undiagnosed health issues but I'm slowly picking away. Don't worry I have the story planned out so unless something happens it will be continuing. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also when I describe You (the main character) as having certain physical features it's because it will matter to the story otherwise happy imagining. : )

 

The storm comes in the night and lasts for what seems like days, snow hitting the buildings sideways as the harsh wind blows.

Mages have been burning away the collecting white powder from the paths so work can continue, but most people find themselves crammed inside the buildings so not to freeze.

You do not share this problem.

You hum to yourself as you trudge through the storm, your long hair moving in the wind as if thousands of tiny hands are trying to pull you in different directions.

But you pay none of it any mind as you continue to search for the small iron deposits that the requisitions department is looking for, enjoying the way the world seems more muffled and quiet.

Even your footsteps crashing through the snow banks don’t scare away the squirrels gathered in the trees to watch your progression, and the still training soldiers don’t spare you a glance as you drag the heavy bag full of iron past them.

You’re working up a sweat by the time you drag it all up the first flight of stairs, squinting up at the next level where you can see the officer speaking to someone else.

So close but so far.

    You’re getting ready to start hauling again when you hear the thoughts of someone coming, not wanting to interact with whoever it might be you set yourself forward, only to be stopped with a careful hand on your elbow.

Your body involuntarily flinches away, whirling around to face someone unexpected.

    “Woah there kid, didn’t mean to scare you.” Varric laughs as he holds his hands up. “I was just going to offer to help carry the bag, it looks heavy.”

    “Oh.” You suddenly feel silly for your reaction now but if it had been anyone else it would have been warranted. “You don’t need to worry yourself with me, I’m stronger than I look.”

Varric chuckles but still goes to grab for the bag, apparently insisting.

You draw back and allow it, shifting your stance as you pick through his thoughts.

You have noticed while studying the dwarven man on a couple occasions that his thoughts either reflect exactly what he’s speaking or what was it he called it once… he has an inclination towards extravagant lies.

Thankfully he seems to be leaning towards more the first at the moment.

“I’m sure you are, Red Bird, but what kind of a person would I be if I didn’t lend a hand.”

You look at Varric strangely as you two start to walk, “My name isn’t Red Bird.”

“Oh I know, but seeing as we haven’t been introduced I had to think of something to call you. Your hair is such an unusual color it’s sticks out whenever you run by especially in this snow.”

You inspect the strands of hair hanging in your face before shrugging slightly, strangely your hair hasn’t been the base of many problems in the past, if anything it’s more natural than what it once was.

“That’s fair. If you want you can call me Fayette instead, which is my name.” You offer as Varric drops the heavy bundle on the requisitions table, clearing away the gathering snow from the top with a sweep of his thick arm.

“Nice to meet you Red Bird, I’m Varric. Rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome helper.”

You feel shame burn your ears, had you really been that obvious?

“I mean no offense, your company was just merely unexpected. It’s nice to meet you Varric… and thank you for carrying the bag.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He means it. “Actually I was more concerned about the fact that you must be freezing half to death, has no one provided you with supplies?”

He’s worried?

You’re not even wearing a coat while running around in the storm but it hasn’t even crossed anyone else’s mind to inquire as to your well being so you forgot.

But Varric’s features even seem to show some genuine concern, clearly wondering if you have frostbite on your feet and if healers could do anything.

Your chest clenches painfully as you unconsciously shy away, “It’s okay to be honest the cold doesn’t bother me. Look.”

You hold your foot up for inspection and confirm what you just said, your skin is completely fine.

If he were to touch it he would even feel its warmth

“Okay, if it works for you.”

You can feel the first signs of hesitation from him but not because he thinks you’re odd, strangely enough, but because he suspects you might be lying.

Which you aren’t but you suppose any other elf would probably also reject the help out of suspicion of intent.

This is the first time you’ve been able to interact with the dwarven man and you find yourself staring as he talks to the requisitions officer about something you tune out.

His lips seem to always be quirked into a half smile no matter who he’s talking to, even if the corners of his warm eyes don’t crinkle.

He’s one of the harder to read people you’ve come across recently but his surface thoughts still drift over on occasion, and you find yourself unwilling to delve any deeper. 

Varric has since turned to you and your face flushes with heat at getting caught but he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact he’s holding something out for you.

“Here, in case you decide to want to wear it.”

It’s a cloak made of heavy wool and boots that you take dumbly, these are for you?

“I didn’t pay for these.” He already knows that so you don’t know why you say it but for some reason it makes his eyes crinkle.

“I know Red Bird, just consider it a gift for my sound of mind. I know people like Chuckles typically don’t wear shoes but he even has wraps on his feet.”

Your brows furrow slightly, you know nobody by the name of Chuckles but he speaks as if you _should_ know.

“Oh, you mean Solas.” You speak out loud when the name crosses Varric’s mind and when his expression clouds slightly you realize you may have slipped up slightly.

He was expecting you to have to ask after all, how else would you know his weird nickname for someone you’ve only spoken to three times before.

He wasn’t suspicious before but now there’s inklings of it and you feel a strange chill in your chest, was he planning on prodding you for information this entire time?

You force a small smile as you clench the cloak tightly and quickly think of a way to explain that doesn’t sound more suspicious than you’re already coming off, even if you say that you had simply observed the people around here wouldn’t explain how you knew that, Varric has never once visited Solas or vise versa.

But then Varric is grinning again like nothing happened.

“Chuckles is so stoic, the name really works for him doesn’t it?”

Your smile stays in place thankfully as you think of the elvhan mage, even if you could read him you’re sure his demeanor could be considered off putting.

And yet…

“I wonder if he would be more open if he didn’t have so much stacked against him.” You say thoughtfully, eager to draw Varric’s attention away to a new topic.

“You should see how even the serving girl treats him, you would think we would all band together with our similarities instead of focusing on differences. But instead all they see is an apostate, a an elf.”

“He certainly did not get a warm greeting from Cassandra when he arrived, that pattern probably has continued.”

“He said as much as well.”

A look of surprise, “He told you that?”

You don’t see the harm in admitting to talking to Solas, you get the feeling Varric already has been keeping an eye on you anyway by this interaction.

“He has spoken to me about a number of things, though I had to pry on some subjects. It’s disappointing to see his knowledge squandered, I feel as though he could teach us all something.”

Varric is quiet for a moment and you feel his thoughts shifting but this time it’s not negative, in fact this is the first time you get a glimpse of a strong image of a dark haired man, red war paint splattered across his nose. 

“It is disappointing when good people are seen as bad simply because they are a mage, but then when they are seen as useful they are suddenly expected to drop everything to help out.”

Your head tilts to the side in wonder, he certainly seems to be talking about a personal experience but you get the feeling he won’t be willing to talk about it.

“Solas said he stayed of his own will to help.” You purposefully say ignorantly.

“That he did, not that he’s gotten much thanks for it. It’s good to know someone talking to him.”

This time it’s a genuine smile that pops on your face even though you don’t realize it, your cheeks rounding out pleasantly.

You go to further the conversation when you feel someone approach right behind you, bristling you look over your shoulder and see the very woman you two had just mentioned. 

“Seeker, what can I do for you?”

The woman up close is striking to say the least, somehow the scar on her face suiting her more than if it weren’t there.

Her slate colored eyes briefly look you over but she focuses on Varric with an intensity that you somehow know something is up without even feeling her chaotic thoughts.

“Varric we are all needed in the war room, can you retrieve Solas while I pull Sera away from the tavern.”

The dwarven man’s energy instantly changes as he nods, Cassandra stalks off just as quickly as she came which leaves you to look at the golden man.

“I guess that’s my cue, see you around Red Bird. Try to keep warm.”

He winks before also leaving, off in the direction of Solas’s cabin.

From nearby there’s the sound of a tents entrance flapping open in the wind and you catch a glimpse of a woman with bright hair peeking out from her hood make her way to the Chantry, soon figures emerge from the snow and also follow.

You only pivot in place to watch Cassandra with the blonde elf Sera who rode in with the rest of them from before, just as Varric appears with a displeased looking Solas who only looks more so when he sees the others.

No not the others, Sera specifically who shares the same look when she sees him.

She crosses her arms in a way that almost reminds you of the children when they wanted to be stubborn about something and storms ahead of them so she doesn’t have to file in line next to him. 

Solas has an uncanny ability to feel your gaze on him as his eyes seek you out through the snow, you giving him a small questioning look but he merely inclines his head before turning and disappearing inside.

The doors fall shut behind all of them.

You wonder what the mood you feel is, what they are discussing inside.

It must be something serious, you doubt the Herald would call them all in for a discussion if it wasn’t considering he didn’t seem to mind not having them around before.

You doubt there would be a way for you to listen in without seeming suspicious, you haven’t even stepped inside the chantry building before, you have had no desire to. 

You sigh and brush the gathering flakes on your head away despite knowing they will just be replaced in a matter of seconds, doing the same to the bag always resting upon your shoulders.

Actually, your new cloak may solve that problem at least, keep all your stuff dry.

You sling it over your shoulders before wandering back to your sleeping place to put the boots under your cot, hopefully you won’t ever need them but you don’t want to throw Varric’s kindness back in his face. 

Some of the serving girls crowded inside for warmth give you a look but otherwise don’t interact, they don’t know what to make of you and you know that.

By now they’ve already whispered among themselves about you spending time in the company of Solas and how you run around doing random chores for the humans of the camp.

Some make snide remarks like you’re trying too hard to be a people pleaser, others wish they had the confidence to break away from the kitchen’s to do the same.

None of this bothers you, most of the elves are city dwellers come from alienages who wanted to escape from them and you can’t imagine what they have grown up with.

But you can hear their restless sleeping at night, their terrified thoughts every time a man gets too close, their longing to feel at peace.

You understand what it might look like to someone who has grown up hating humans their whole life. 

One of the smaller girls is shivering despite being huddled by the fire, a thin blanket wrapped around her and her pink nose running continuously.

She must only be a few years older than Celia, her face losing some of its babyishness but maybe she has simply aged beyond her years.

Her feet look raw and it’s her broken leather shoes sitting nearby that finally makes you reach right back under your cot and walk the boots right over to her.

“Here, hopefully these will keep you a little warmer.” You crouch by her legs to get a better look at her condition like Varric did for you but she doesn’t seem to have frostbite yet.

Her eyes are a lovely shade of green as she stares at you roundly, “You’re giving them to me?”

“I don’t need them it’s okay, I’m sorry I just can’t do more.” You say somberly, hopefully Varric won’t be upset if he sees her running around in the familiar oversized boots but you doubt he will be.

“Thank you, big sister.” She says shyly and you smile at her, not that much older than Celia after all.

When you walk back to your cot you hear one of the others ask the girl, “Do you know her? Why did you call her big sister.”

The girls eyes gleam over for a second as she says, “That’s just who she is.”

Now that gets you even more weird looks but they say nothing to you directly, a good thing as you couldn’t begin to explain.

Not to them.   

It’s too mentally loud to stay there for too long and soon you’re back out in the snow, you stop by the Chantry but can’t tell if the meeting has adjourned yet but you don’t want to pace and be too obvious.

So you do the only logical thing, sit on Solas’ roof.

He’s not inside but it’s still quieter than everywhere else and you’re tired from running around all day, your muscles are sore from lugging both your bag and anything else you had to carry.

Even though Varric had at first been an unwelcome visitor, surprised you, with his help.

You will admit the bag of iron was a bit much for you especially at the end, it’s probably better that you didn’t overdo it.

The snow is a soft cushion under your backside and legs, you wonder if you stayed still long enough if someone would mistake you for a gargoyle. 

You can’t bring out your notebook or quill for fear of ruining them so you look longing at the scar in the sky.

You feel as though you can never look at it enough, still it tries to draw you in like an unknown temptress at a distance.

You wonder how you would react to it if you were closer, something you’ve still yet to figure out how to do.

By now you’re very sure that there is constant watch on it even if it is considered momentarily stable, nothing seems unwatched by the spymasters people.

Even now you sharply catch one of them slipping behind a building but they aren’t even aware you’re near, their target is someone else. 

Your fingers fiddle with themselves, you’ve been here a while now but it’s still unclear why your calling brought you here.

In the past it’s been very specific instances that you’ve witnessed, Celia and the other orphans, Emery and her sickness, Brawnson and his family…

You’ve always been more connected to the fade than others it would make sense that the rift could be disrupting the usual message somehow but why.

You don’t like not knowing. Information has either always been given to you or forced upon you but the minute you need to know something about yourself it’s all a mess. 

“Have you nowhere else to be.” Solas is definitely grumpy, even you can tell that the moment he stops under the roofs lip to look up at you, his eyebrows deeply furrowed.

You would feel uneasy if you thought his anger was directed at you but it’s clear whatever the gathering was about didn’t go well.

“I can leave if you want me to.” You offer even though you _really_ don’t want to do that, you bite your lip hoping he doesn’t send you away.

He pauses before finally sighing.

“It’s fine, why don’t you come down from there.”

Though your hair shrouds your face you feel yourself brighten, watching him take a step back as snow falls in a heap as you slide down.

You land on your feet rather gracefully this time, until the following snow continues its course and dumps all over your head, pummeling you to the ground.

It’s not startlingly cold of course but you don’t know why this stuff only happens when he’s around.

But you don’t feel the embarrassment come when you look up and see Solas’ expression has flickered into an amused smile at your predicament, even if his shoulders still hold tension.

To your disbelief he actually holds out a hand to help you up, your fingers meeting his light as a feather until he firmly takes it in his.

You brush yourself off the best you can, Varric’s cloak already coming in handy so that you won’t be soaked when you get indoors and melt off. 

You casually release one another, “Thank you.”

He nods his head and motions for you to follow him inside, much to your pleasure.

You haven’t had the chance to peek at his books since the time you snuck in and you hope he won’t mind this time since he actually knows about it this time. 

It looks to be the same inside as when you last saw with piles of books and papers, the only difference being that his bed is made and looks to be immaculate.

Your fingers flex when you see the book you handled lays in the same place you set it down, if you didn’t know better you would suspect he left it there on purpose.

But you force yourself to hold your hands behind your back as if to stop yourself from reaching out before he gives explicit consent.

“You should sit by the fire so you don’t freeze.” He ignites the fireplace with a single movement of his hand, what is it with everyone thinking you’re on the brink of turning into an ice cube.

You were sitting on his roof not just moments ago after all. 

“I appreciate that, but honestly a fire might roast me on the spot.”

You severely _don’t_ miss the heat you traveled from and would do anything not to sweat like that again.

As if to make a point you slip off the cloak to cool down from the heat that already emanating from the flames. 

“I feel similarly.” Solas actually admits but doesn’t put it out, instead he sits himself in a chair and looks contemplatively at it, that crease showing up again on his forehead.

You roll on the balls of your feet, usually if you wanted to know something you would outright ask but here you feel as though you have to be more strategic.

You also don’t want to pry when he seems upset. 

“You can help yourself to my books, if you wish.”

You don’t have to be told twice and practically dive for the one you left last time, declining to use a chair and instead sitting on the floor not far from where he is.

It’s much easier to concentrate with the utter silence between the two of you and nothing else to distract you away, it’s probably the most comfortable you’ve been in the presence of another person in a while.

You’re so absorbed in the book that you miss Solas looking at you out of the corner of his eye, his face as passive as ever but clearly thinking about _something._  His gaze moves to the bag on your shoulders that you’ve still yet to put down, you seem unaware how the thing weighs you down.

“Do you mind if I take notes?” You suddenly interrupt looking up at him, unaware how quickly he looked back to the flames so not to get caught.

“I do not.” He replies, once more pretending not to watch as you slip the bag from your shoulders and hauling it to rest between your legs so you can scrummage through it.

You have to look through several of your packed notebooks before finding the correct one and starting to scribble in it.

Solas allows you a few moments to get your thoughts down before speaking.

“You study ancient elves?” He asks straightforwardly and you look down at one of the notebooks you set aside.

“Oh yes, it’s one of my favorite topics. Though, there’s not a lot of information on them as it is so it’s more like any scrap of information I learn about them I hoard.”

Another moment of quiet.

“I’m curious as to know what information you _think_ you have acquired.”

That’s the first time you think you hear haughtiness in his tone against you and you look at him squarely, keeping your face neutral despite the irritation that spikes in your chest for a moment.

You’re used to knowing people judge you as uneducated because of your appearance but you’ve had in depth conversations about other things with Solas so you don’t know why he would assume you lack information of this subject.

“ _Dirthara-ma, I may not know much but I know some._ ” Now _that_ gets his attention, he sits up immediately with wide eyes, apparently not expecting you to insult him and prove him wrong in one sentence, but he insulted you as well so it’s only fair.

“ _Abelas, I should not have assumed._ ” 

“I said I was not Dalish, not that I was oblivious to our history or our language.” You turn back to the book you were reading and make sure you don’t lose the page as you place it over your knee, frowning to yourself.

“Your pronunciation is not abysmal unlike others I’ve heard, where did you learn to speak.” 

“My mother originally but eventually I had to teach myself, not an easy task when so little people around me spoke any of the language.”

“Your mother was she-?”

“No. She was not Dalish either, in fact the clans we interacted with were displeased with her teaching me what they considered false information. But I trusted her word above all others.” 

“She sounds like an interesting woman.”

“She _was_.” Thankfully he reads your mood and doesn’t delve deeper, on that anyway.

“She’s the one who gave you the views you have, I presume.” 

“Correct. She believed the elvhan gods were just powerful mages but didn’t understand how they came to be worshipped. I was always mystified by Vallaslin as a child but she also suspected they might have been used as slave markings so I was never allowed to get any, not that I saw the markings as the same after that.”

Looking up at Solas he has a very odd expression on his face, he’s staring right at you like he’s never seen another person before.

He even has to clear his throat before he dares speak.

“How did your mother come to such conclusions?” You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, you’ve mentioned this before to other people but usually they know you a lot better before you share such information.

But something about Solas almost compels you to want to tell him and you have his full attention now when you haven’t before.

“...Uh well you see she had certain...abilities.” You start. “She could see and know things others couldn’t, I’m not even sure if there’s a name for it but the closest thing I’ve read to what it could have been is a Clairvoyant.”

“Did you inherit such abilities yourself.”

“No.” _These came...after_.

Solas seems to contemplate your words carefully, eyes never leaving your face making you want to squirm.

He seems to come to some kind of conclusion in his head because his chin dips and he abruptly stands up and heads for a stack of books, searching for a specific one before flipping through its pages.

You watch him and wonder what exactly he’s looking into.

“You may borrow that book for a time if it pleases you.” You realize you’re being dismissed already and feel your face fall.

“How long?”

“Until I arrive back from Orlais.” Another disappointing response. Orlais? How long would that be exactly, longer than your trip to arrive here for sure.

“If you finish it you may pick another, it will give us plenty to talk about when I arrive back.”

Now there’s something that’s much less disappointing, he’s giving you free access to his collection _and_ even inviting you back to discuss them. 

“Thank you,” you say excitedly, standing up and practically stumbling to the door as you sling your heavy bag onto your shoulder again.

“Thank you, _Hahren._ ”

A daring pause.

“I mean _Chuckles.”_

You duck out right as he scoffs.

You need a way to keep track of the days until he comes back, maybe even the minutes.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapter in one day, feeling inspired.
> 
> On a more morbid note, this chapter contains sensitive content so just be warned.

The group left the very next day, Varric, Cassandra and sadly Solas mounting on their rides along with the Harald.

There was tension among the group especially between Solas and the Harald it seemed and you didn’t like how the dark haired man looked and treated his counter. Even Varric who seemed to get along with everyone wasn’t smiling when he interacted with the Harald.

And then they were gone.

Which only seems to have made the camp more chaotic. 

The night commander Cullen seems to be the only one with any sense that actually steps in between arguments, he even faces off with an especially loud chancellor right in front of the Chantry which gives you a headache as you watch.

With the storm long gone people don’t seem to have anything better to do but gather and watch the heated argument, a lot of them inwardly even enjoying the confrontation, especially the mages and Templars who have already chosen a side amongst themselves. This Rodrick man seems bent on causing an even bigger rift between the group even if his worried thoughts are actually about the people, how they could be getting misled.

On some level you _do_ understand, the man has given his whole life for the Maker and suddenly Trevelyn is getting called the Harald of Andraste by even faithful followers. He simply doesn’t want them to put false faith into someone.

But there’s no excuse for causing a dangerous situation.

A frown seems a more prominent feature on your face these days as you walk away, not wanting the poisonous thoughts in your head anymore.

You look longingly to Solas’ long empty cabin and even sit by the fire where Varric often lounged but nothing seems to bring you peace.

And maybe that’s it, there is no peace, no break in the overwhelming mass of thoughts that infiltrate your own. Even the quiet moment of reading in Solas’ cabin has been interrupted by the arrival of even more people.

Whatever the Inquisition is doing in Orlais has spread the word even further and now people linger even in the previously quiet part of the camp during the day. 

Worst of all is the lack of distraction since requisition orders are getting filled more easily than in the past, your help is less detrimental for the cogs to keep turning. It leaves you feeling out of place once more, dare you say even a little hopeless.

There seems to be no real reason for you to be here yet you can’t leave until you follow through with _whatever_ your mission could be, but everything you could do for the people here can also be fulfilled by another. 

One of the only reliefs is that the blacksmiths son is busy working with his father on a near daily occurrence which leaves you to tend to the horses nearly by yourself except for the horse master himself and a couple of his people, all of whom are blissfully quieter even inside. 

A horse nuzzles your face affectionately after you’re done brushing it, the next one whinnying impatiently for you to move on to it.

Ever since your mind has opened up you find animals have an even stronger connection to you than before, one of the only benefits mind you, but one still. You almost get the impression that they purposefully listen to you lowly muttering to them about your frustrations and worries, they don’t respond of course except for a swish of their tail or the tilt of their ears but it’s nice to talk to something so non judgmental. 

 “I wish they would come back already,” you say for what feels like the millionth time and the mare’s dark eyes blink in understanding. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. No one here wants to interact with me like Solas, or even Varric. You remember them? I’ve mentioned them before.”

The mare blinks again as you begin to braid her mane, feeling the horses pleasure at the action. Just like people they all have something special they like done for them and it’s the least you can do if they have to listen to you ramble on about the same thing.

A long sigh and a darker mood sets in, “And that soldier the other day, they’re getting more bold because their commander is so busy trying to keep the peace that he can’t pay attention to everything at once.” 

Yet another problem cropping up more and more is the harassment, especially towards elven woman. It was dark by the time you had headed back to your usual sleeping place when you heard the muffled crying, a serving girl nearly knocking you over in her rush to get away from the dark alleyway between two of the buildings.

Not even a second later a soldier comes from the same path, a sickening pleased smile on his face as he watched her go. His eyes fell to you soon enough and his smile grew, the wink he sent you nothing like the purely friendly one Varric did. You wished nothing more than to wipe the images running through his mind from your own but it had been too late, leaving you feeling queasy as you ran after the girl. She wouldn’t say much but she didn’t have to, you simply sat next to her and listened to the sobs shake her shoulders.

You gave her one of the elixers Ellen had finally perfected for pain relief and she drank it down like liquor before slumping against the wall. 

Even now anger swells behind your ribs, lately it burns hotter with each injustice you see and you are afraid at one point you will burst.

“I really am losing it,” you whisper to the horse, taking a calming breath just in time for two kids to burst into the stables. 

“Big sister!” It’s Emilee and her younger brother Thomas, both of who are wearing their oversized boots and cloaks.

A smile cracks your face, finally.

“You two, are you staying out of trouble?”

“Yeth, big thister.” Thomas lisp’s which only makes you smile wider.

Emilee ended up being the name of the girl you gave your boots to, you somehow hadn’t noticed her trailing you until her younger brother one day just ran up to your legs and hugged them something fierce.

Apparently their mother is one of the elves that assists in studying strange material brought back from battles, her daughter Emilee getting put in the same sleeping quarters as you while her brother got put into the mens sleeping portion.

A ridiculous notion considering Thomas’ age, he should either be with his sister or his mother but the woman isn’t allowed away from her duties for more than a couple hours a day. The day you gave Emilee your boots she had apparently had to run through the bitter cold to bring Thomas to a healer because of a sickness in his chest, something that even made the little tyke worried for his sisters health when he saw her leave the tent.

What else could you do but use some of your own coin to buy them warmer things no matter how ill fitted, especially since they seem to insist on sticking close by you at most times now.

Maybe not all things are bad.

“Good,” you say as you gently squeeze one of Thomas’ round cheeks playfully. “Would you like to help me in the stables then?”

“Yes, please!” Emilee pipes up and is already reaching for a brush.

The horse masters people don’t mind the intrusion because the children are surprisingly well behaved, even little Thomas, and one of the men even waves at the little elven boy.

He shyly waves back before reaching his arms up, apparently insisting you hold him. You haul him up on to your hip and he hangs on to your bag for balance like a little monkey as you show him how to braid the rest of the mares hair.

His chubby little fingers aren’t quite coordinated for the task which results in a couple knots but luckily the horse has patience and holds still for him anyway.

You look at Emilee every once in a while but she is always trying her best to match your pace, she even offers to scoop the dung from the stalls herself so that you don’t have to put her brother down to do it.

“Thank you, that’s very responsible of you.” She beams with pride at your words unabashedly, it’s her favorite compliment because she hears it from her mom the most. She really is a hard worker but the Inquisition hardly seems the place for such innocence, but you know there was no choice because their father was killed when Emilee was still a baby and their mother was promised their protection if she worked here.

None of which they told you, but you know. 

“Were you talkin’ to yourthelf in here?” Thomas asks you while he makes another knot in the next horses hair, his tiny nose wrinkled in concentration. 

“Mmm, to the horses too. Animals are really good listeners, don’t you know?” 

“Don’t think I’s ever tried.” He says curiously before planting his hands on either side of the horses head, looking deep into its dark eyes. “

You lithening?” The horse huffs hard enough to blow back Thomas hair which makes him burst into a fit of giggles.

Emilee’s head pops in next to you as she excitedly says, “I wanna try!” They take turns talking to each horse you attend to which serves to relax you greatly, tightness still coiled in your chest but now not ready to strike at any moment.

By the time the three of you are done your stomach rumbles in hunger as you’re positive the children feel the same way.

“You guys want me to make you something? I think I have enough left to make a stew.” 

“You don’t have to-” Emilee starts but Thomas howls out at the same time which makes her face go pink. “Yeth please big thister, I want food.” 

“Don’t worry Emilee, I’m offering.”

She relaxes slightly but you know she has a hard time admitting when she actually needs something or that she can’t provide something for her little brother.

You wonder if any of the fire pits will be free or if you will have to make a fire of your own, you purchased a cauldron not that long ago so that you could cook your own meals to your specifications and portions since the kitchens started handing you old loaves of bread to eat with usually nothing else.

You know it’s not personal but it just wasn’t enough to keep you fueled and feeling well. 

Emilee is chatting about the one time she tried talking to a squirrel but she was _sure_ it didn’t listen to her like the horses did when you get a growing bad feeling.

It prickles at the back of your neck and you instinctively look over your shoulder to scan the soldiers, face draining of color when you see a disgustingly familiar face. It’s that soldier from the alleyway speaking with another but his eyes are already glued to you over the other man’s shoulder, a smirk creeping onto his lips when he realizes you’ve caught him staring. 

“On second thought you guys, I’ll treat you to a meal at the tavern, I hear it’s not half bad.” _And full of people nearly all hours_. 

“Can I try some ale?” 

“Definitely not.” You guide them quickly through the gates but the bad feeling follows and you know you will have to watch your back carefully until his interest in you fades. 

Just as expected the usual crowd is already half buzzed inside the Tavern but the energy is rather positive and some of the drunks greet the children pleasantly as we pass to sit at the only table that isn’t packed. The only other person sitting there ends up being Sera, a non intended first interaction. 

“Can we thit here?” Thomas has already planted his bottom down when he asks which makes Sera grin.

“Sure thing big man, tha’ seats all yours.” 

“Thank you.” I say while seating myself on the end of the bench so to cage them in comfortably against the wall.

Sera’s immediate thought when she looks to you in negative, _another friggin' elf of course_. But then she realizes you don’t have Dalish markings it fades, just a little.

“These your kids, ya?” She asks which makes you nearly choke on your own spit.

“Uh, no. I’m just treating them to a meal, they worked up an appetite helping me out.” 

“So you just hangout with kids?” She raises an eyebrow, apparently not the sort to hold back on questioning even strangers about whatever crosses her mind.

Quite literally, every thought that has crossed her mind so far she’s spoken.

You look at the kids and they look back expectantly, they apparently want to know your thoughts on it too.

You smile at them, “Yeah I suppose I do.” Emilee giggles.

“Weird. But good. I think?” 

A tavern girl stalls by the table to take orders, balancing mugs on her tiny tray like a pro.

When she leaves there’s a palpable awkward feeling as Sera sips her ale, you don’t avert your eyes quickly enough for her not to notice.

“What? You want some?” 

“I’ve never drank.” That seems to blow her mind because her eyes go wide as she slams the cup down.

“Wha? How can you live in a crummy world like this and _not_ drink?”

You’re not the shrugging type but your shoulders bob anyway, you just always had things to worry about other than the gnawing hole inside that most people fill with liquor.

“How old are ya?” She tries to squint past your curtain of hair and you shift uncomfortably but give her a nervous smile.

“Old enough.”

“We gotta get a drink inta ya then.” She demands, her ale sloshing over her hand as she waves down another tavern girl.

She’s definitely slightly intoxicated but maybe that’s for the best, it’s making her quite easy to read.

She doesn’t have any ulterior motives other than actually getting you a drink strangely enough but she’s not super committed to staying nice if you start blathering about elven culture or anything of the sort. It’s strange to be in the presence of an elf that _doesn’t_ like to talk about it.

“Your name is Sera, right?” You finally question as she squints at you.

“Ye, how’d you know?” 

“I saw you ride in with the Harald a while ago, I was curious I guess.” 

It takes a minute but Sera suddenly smirks, “Curious about me, were ya?”

For some _strange_ reason you feel yourself blush and your fingers start to fiddle with themselves. 

“Um, yeah.” You say awkwardly and catch the drifting thought _she’s actually kinda cute_ .

It definitely comes from Sera which only makes your face hotter and you’re relieved when a mug is set in front of you, taking a large burning gulp before feeling your face twist in displeasure, people drink this for _fun_?

Sera laughs at your reaction and so do the kids, reminding you that you should be careful what you say in front of them.

“Shoulda seen your own face, hilarious.” She pretends to wipe a tear away. “Wha’s your name anyway?”

“Fayette.”

“That’s not very _elfy_.” 

“I suppose not, is that a problem?”

“Definitely _not_ , makes me like you more.”

And it’s true she does actually like you more because you don’t have an elven name, a very strange girl.

The food comes out right after that and Emilee and Thomas dig in ravenously, their cheeks bulging which makes you remind them to slow down so not to choke. 

“What is it like being apart of the Inquisition?” You ask Sera who is eyeing your food with great interest.

“We’re _all_ apart of the Inquisition.”

“Okay you’re right, but what’s it like being apart of the main group. Traveling around and such?” You ask innocently while casually inching your plate in her direction.

“Pretty fun. Going after the baddies, helping out the little people. Would be better if he weren’t a right _prick_.”

“Who?” 

“The Harald, duh.” It’s the first time you’ve heard someone say it outright and blink at her in surprise, Solas also crossed her mind but she definitely feels just as strongly if not more so about the Harald.

You glance at the kids but they’re talking amongst themselves and still eating so you lean forward slightly, watching Sera deftly pluck food from your plate and pop it in her mouth.

“I thought… well I thought he was revered?”

“He is, woulda fallen for it myself if I didn’t travel with him.” She plucks more food from your plate. “There’s no way Andraste would send such a shite person to clean up this mess, even if he has the glowy thing on his hand.”

Sera frowns as she takes a long swig, remembering an especially nasty encounter with the Harald where _he got right up in her face_ , “ _Shut the fuck up elf, did I ask you for advice?”_

You’re so stunned by the revelation of her memory that you stop eating midway through, swallowing thickly.

“Why do you stay then, if you don’t mind my asking.” 

“Were you even listening? He’s _shite_ , if he’s not gonna look out for the little people _someone_ has to, that’s the whole point!”

Sera feels very strongly about this and you almost admire it, it wouldn’t be easy traveling with someone who accosts you constantly while holding out on the hope that you’re actually helping. But now you’re imagining Solas in the company of that man and feeling your gut drop, no wonder he looked so unhappy at the thought of getting dragged all the way to Orlais with him.

“Hey are you gonna finish that?” Sera is already on a different track and points to the mug that you’ve hardly touched.

“Go ahead.” You imagine the leering soldier as your mouth sets into a thin line. “I have to stay sharp.” 

“Why’s that?” Sera questions and you realize you said that last part out loud. But by now Emilee and Thomas have started to tune in again because their plates are empty and look up you with large eyes.

You force a smile, “Gotta make sure these two stay busy and out of trouble.” 

“Hmm.” It’s the first time Sera looks at you sharply, like she thinks you’re being untruthful.

But in the end she tips your mug back and drinks before wiping her full lips. “Alright then, good chattin’.” 

“You too.” And you mean it, she has given you very good insight on the exact situation you’ve wandered into.

You’re pretty sure you’re Calling wouldn’t have you assisting such a horrible man directly, but if he’s in charge of this group they will need a lot of help.

Help maybe you can only provide to steer it on the right course. 

“I’m thleepy,” Thomas is rubbing his eyes when we exit the Tavern, you’re not surprised that he’s ready for a nap after eating so much.

Even Emilee looks a little dazed as she sticks her booted toe into a snow drift.

“Do you want to take a rest?” You watch as Thomas’ little nose crinkles.

“No! I hate thleepin’ in that room.”

“It’s always so loud,” Emilee chimes in, also frowning. “I don’t really want to go back to the girls room either.”

You understand completely of course, especially little Thomas.

He doesn’t want to be separated from his older sister, or from you.

You think for a moment before your eyes wander to Solas’ empty cabin.

No… you really shouldn’t…

Sure you’ve been there by yourself but he gave you permission and he had no idea you would gather a following of any kind. But these kids are very good about listening and it’s not like he would ever know, you’ll even wash his sheets for him afterwards so they’re nice and clean when he arrives back. 

“Alright gang, what do you think about taking a rest in that cabin there. You just have to promise not to touch _anything_ unless I say it’s okay.”

“Isn’t that the grumpy old man’s house?” You look at them before laughing, the first time in a long time.

 

Just like you suspected the kids listened to you without flaw and only snoozed in the bed for a good few hours until the sky started to get dark, you knew their mother would want to eat dinner with them so you woke them up and escorted them down to the kitchen’s where she usually waits.

The tired elven woman smiles brightly at the sight of her kids running to hug her and she thanks you again for watching over them.

She was worried sick thinking of them running around freely so knowing at least one adult hangs out with them is a relief, even if it’s not all the time.

You leave them in peace so they can talk about their day and catch up, relishing the cold outside air on your face since that kitchen is like a furnace.

But your work isn’t done yet, like you promised Solas in your head you need to strip the sheets and wash them so he never knew someone slept in his bed besides himself.

Gathering the sheets you head for the bathhouse, it’s not your first time in there of course but it’s the first time it’s been completely empty.

There’s a separate wash bin specifically for clothes that has long since gone cold but it doesn’t bother you as you pull out your handmade soap out of your bag, setting the heavy thing aside so it won’t get wet.

You roll up your sleeves and get to work, humming to yourself as you inhale the fresh scent of soap rising up from the suds.

You’ll have to hang them up somewhere to dry but if it’s outside they will be stiff, maybe you could light up the fireplace in his cabin and read while you wait.

You haven’t been sleeping well anyway, it won’t kill you to pass the long hours for one night by reading.

Emilee would probably be the only one who would notice you missing especially since she switched cots to be closer to you, but the other girls at least look after one another so they’ll make sure she gets to bed alright. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you think you hear the door open but when you whirl around you see no one, your heart hammering uncomfortably in your breast.

You were enjoying the quiet so much that you were ignoring the bad feeling that has been looming over you all day.

No more ignoring it now.

“Is someone there?” You actively seek out anyone’s thoughts but hear nothing though the hairs on your arms are still raised.

You wait a moment before turning back to quickly finish the job, the sooner you get out of here the better.

You sling your bag up after wringing out the sheets the best you can and gathering them in your arms, practically jogging out of the small space.

Most people seem to have retired for the night except for the usual’s in the tavern. They’re still full of energy and their thoughts get more scattered the more they drink but you can’t afford to pause your stroll, your heart still beating in your ears and the prickly feeling is only getting worse.

You can’t sift through the thoughts fast enough to know if someone is thinking about you specifically. 

You’re nearly to Solas’ cabin when you finally hear it, _there she is_.

You turn around worriedly but no one is behind you on the path that you can see and you can’t tell where it came from, until it’s too late. His door is literally within an arm’s reach when a hand roughly seizes your bag and yanks backwards, another mandible slapping over your mouth to muffle the surprised yell that tries to escape.

Dropping the linens in the snow you stumble backwards clawing at the hand over your mouth and hearing the soldier hiss, “You’re a feisty one aren’t you.”

You pull your elbows back to hit him but he’s twisting away skillfully and pulling you with him, you even go as far as shrugging your bag off to pull away but even when it drops to the ground with a clang he hits you in directly in the small of your back to make you stumble, pain spiking all the way up to your shoulders. 

“ _Bellanaris Din’an Heem_.” You swear ferociously at him with watering eyes, spinning around despite the horrible ache to face the soldier you knew was coming after you.

He looks displeased that you managed to slip away but not _that_ displeased, he’s even thinking how he enjoys a good struggle. 

“Whew, couldn’t understand a word of that but it still burns. What else you got sweetheart?” He smirks when you grit your teeth, how has no one heard the two of you yet?

Just as you think that you see the door to Adan’s apothecary begin to open, light streaming across the path but he appears to be talking to his assistant so his back is turned to the two of you. 

You don’t get the chance to call out to him because the soldier is lunging across the small distance, jamming his fist under your ribs and knocking the air right from your lungs.

Your legs crumble but he scoops you up like you’re nothing before darting behind the building into the shadows.

You can’t catch your breath to the point that saliva streams from the corner of your mouth as you try to inhale, watching with horror as Adan walks unaware and away. The sheets blend in with the snow in the dark and your bag has been rolled into the dark during the struggle.

The man that holds you smells of perspiration and morbid excitement, when things get quiet again he drops you to the ground painfully before sitting his weight on your legs so you can’t kick him. 

You’re still wheezing when you take your first swing at him, clipping his jaw but not enough to tumble him off of you. In fact he rubs the spot like you just kissed him there, nausea rolling your stomach when he just gets more wound up.

When he leans down you forcefully push his torso away and attempt to wiggle out from under him but he has practice, he knows exactly what to do and it’s sickening.

His gloved hand snaps across your face twice, hard enough to make you see stars and you know your cheek will swell up but you can’t focus on that.

His thoughts are lingering on your damp shirt where he can see your breast band peeking through, he wants to… he wants to… 

“Stop!” You practically scream, receiving another skull jumbling blow to the head.

“I don’t want to ruin your pretty little face, it would be better for both of us if you just give in.” His tone sounds stupidly logical as if this is the most natural thing in the world for him, which maybe it is. 

“Fuck. You.” You grind out.

“I plan to.” 

You hear your shirt rip right down the middle and start to panic, still not giving up and thrashing to the best of your abilities even if it means more abuse.

You hate thinking about your body, you hate when other people think of your body, you hate it, hate it hate it hate it!

_Because it’s not yours._

The fire that was doused by the children earlier roars back to life in your chest, nearly painfully so.

The soldier is so busy trying to undress you that he completely misses your rage taking over, only noticing something is off by the time you’re head butting him.

His nose breaks on impact and blood spurts everywhere, he’s so shocked he doesn’t even yell out. You take the opportunity to finally make a hard hit right against his eye socket, purposefully trying to break that as well.

He’s so off guard now that he physically falls back out of your lap, holding his already black eye with surprise clear in his face, especially when you force yourself on your feet as quickly as possible.

You don’t stop there, your leg swing out to kick him mid chest and sprawl him on his back, slamming your foot down until he’s just as breathless as he made you. 

“You are **nothing** , you are **less than nothing**. How dare you prey on the weak, how dare you think **you could prey on me** .” Your voice is so low and cold that you hardly recognize it yourself, but it’s always been there, waiting.

“If I **ever** see or hear you doing this to someone else again **I will kill you** . Do you understand? **You won’t stand a chance**.”

He doesn’t respond but you know he heard you by his focused thoughts to escape from you, especially when you deliver another blow for good measure.

He’s curled into a ball on the ground groaning pathetically and for the most part your heat has dwindled but your shoulders still heave as you breath heavily, sweat beading at your brow until you wipe it away.

“Holy fucking shit.” Those words really blow away the rest of the flame and you turn to see Sera who has apparently been standing there, watching you beat the absolute crap out of this man.

Her eyes are wide and her hand hovers over her dagger belt, but she’s grinning of all things.

“Fayette, I totally didn’t think of you as a badass but that was _bad-ass_.”

You don’t really know what to say and just stare at her numbly as she walks over to the soldier, pushing him with the tip of her foot.

“Shite, you even broke his nose. Explains tha’ blood on your face, was worried maybe it was yours.” 

You quickly wipe your face and indeed see crimson come away against your fingers.

“How did you find me?” You ask, also wincing when you accidentally brush against your cheek, it definitely will be swollen for a while. Even for you. 

“I got to thinking, I knew one of the soldiers was _really_ making his way through the servin’ girls so when we talked earlier I had a funny feeling maybe you were going through it too.” Sera’s intuition is surprisingly good despite her general goofiness earlier, she even ‘accidentally’ steps on the mans hand as she turns to you, making him flinch.

“Were you the one who followed me to the bathhouse?”

“Oh ya heard that? I thought I saw someone following you when you passed by the tavern, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t alone but I didn’t want to give away my position either.” She puts her hands on her hips.

“You know Cullen isn’t all _that_ bad, if you told him about this friggin idiot he might actually do something about it.” The soldier does look up at that, his one good eye glaring at you until you match it with your own. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do about it.” You say honestly but frown, is there a reason you shouldn’t turn him in?

It would draw attention to you, questions as to how to beat a trained soldier so badly that he still hasn’t run off yet despite him continuously spitting blood in the snow.

“I will consider it, but for now Sera I would really appreciate it if you didn’t mention what you saw to anyone.”

“Sounds stupid, why would you want that? You could pull some sweet moves on other baddies like this areshole, protect people. The little people!”

“I do protect people, that doesn’t always mean shedding blood. Just in this case.” You rub your face, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Please Sera, I know you don’t know me well but it’s complicated.” 

“ _He_ might not be quiet about it,” Sera points out, trampling over his hand yet again.

“I don’t think he will be a problem, what’s he going to say? A little elven girl beat him up while he was trying to rape her? I doubt it.”

And that’s the truth, there’s no way he would admit to anything that could get him in trouble he already knows that inwardly.

He is powerless, just how you want him.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll keep your secret, but you hafta buy me a drink sometime. Wanna forget this business if I have to pretend I didn’t see it.” 

You give her a thin smile, “Sure thing, I can do that.”

“Aight.” She says, stepping on his hand once more before clearing her throat. "You uh, will want some new clothes too."

You remember your torn shirt and clench it closed with a fist, looking down at the soldier as she disappears.

“Get. Out.” He doesn’t need to be told twice to limp off towards the barracks, you wonder what he will say to try and explain his condition but you also don’t care as long as he doesn’t point fingers.

You stand there holding yourself in the shadows before slowly walking back to the front of Solas’ cabin, your teeth puncturing your bottom lip when you bend over to try to pick up your bag only to have most of your body cry out in pain. All you can do is drag it inside before doing the same with the sheets and flopping down on the floor, the palms of your hand pushing into your burning eyes.

 

Don’t cry… don’t cry….

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm wondering if anyone would be interested in song selections for certain chapters

The pain is nearly unbearable.

You just lay on Solas’ floor like an un-movable lump in complete agony, your kidneys must have taken a direct hit when the soldier jabbed the small of your back and your head throbs so hard that you’re afraid you might have a concussion. 

You think you hear the Emilee and Thomas looking for you a couple times but you do everything in your power to make sure they don’t look for you here, willing yourself to be as non existent as possible like you have so many times before when you felt most vulnerable. It’s all you can do to drag your bag to you and try to eat at least a little bit of food you have stored away as well as water in your canteen. It tastes a little off but it’s better than nothing. 

Two days, two days days for you to be able to stand up and even then you feel woozy. You’ve survived worse,  _ much  _ worse, but it’s been a while since anything this bad has occurred. Your body will heal itself in time but the damage must have been bad. 

That man meant to paralyze you and it worked, just not as quickly as he’d hoped. 

You accidentally knock a pile of Solas’ books down when you try to seat yourself at a table, swearing under your breath but knowing you’ll have to deal with it another time. You weren’t even able to make the bed like you originally intended, the sheets wrinkles and on the floor but probably otherwise clean. But it seems silly to worry about such things like that, hopefully you’ll have time to sort the mess out soon enough. 

You sit there for a while until your head stops swimming before making your way to a small mirror Solas owns, for what reasons you can’t be sure of. 

You think you’ve only purposefully looked at your reflection a handful of times throughout your life, the action making you uncomfortable to say the least. 

Usually you would be pinching at your skin like it’s some kind of mask, like your real face may lie underneath like in some of the dreams you’ve had. But the layers never stop even then, just replaced by another that seems vaguely familiar until finally you wake up. But your cheek is splotched a dark purple and that would only cause more pain so you simply inspect yourself, brushing your long hair away from your features to get a better look. 

You look very different without strands obscuring your view, your cheek has swelled down from the size of an apple but it still rounds out unnaturally along the bone. At least it’s some improvement. You’re only in your breast band, having torn the ruined shirt from your shoulders with the last of your energy before you fell apart, and you notice your ribs are discolored. 

Yet your back took the worst of it and your eyes water just looking at the damage, running your fingers lightly over the skin and feeling an unnatural heat from within. Your body hard at work.

You blow a long stream of air out and hang your head, taking a moment to think. Thinking is hard with your pounding skull but you suffer through it, like with all things. At this rate of healing you will probably be able to at least make an appearance without stirring up too much suspicion as to how you came to be in this condition, at least on the outside as long as you cover up no one will be able to tell the difference. 

You wish you could bathe as well, you’re tired of smelling like sour fear and even the man’s scent seems to cling like a ghost that is determined to haunt you. Your mouth sets firmly when you find yourself hoping even the smell of you that might’ve clung to him, causing him mental pain as well. That every time he sniffs anything similarly he will remember you breaking his nose and cower. But you don’t want to spare him any more of your mental space and cut that trail clean off. 

When you look back up into the mirror you decide to take a moment to actually look at yourself this time, no matter the discomfort. It’s not the same face you first came to but there are remnants of it still there, the pale scatter of freckles that will probably disappear completely in a couple years time, the more dramatic differences is the way your bone structure has changed. You no longer share your mothers sculpted nose or her cleft chin, if you push your fingers into the spot even the indent is gone. Any beauty marks of the skin have long been smoothed out and disappeared including even small scars from normal childhood moments from scraped knees or skinned elbows. 

Except for the one scar you will never be rid of, stretching across your throat from ear to ear in what was once a clean cut. 

You swallow as you touch your fingers to the pale strip of skin, that odd feeling creeping up in the back of your mind like a scratching nail on the inside of your skull. 

No, it hurts to think about it and you’re tired of pain. So tired. 

You have to sit on the edge of Solas’ bed when the spots appear before your eyes, leveling your breathing so you don’t throw up precious food. 

You’re focusing so hard that you might have actually fallen into another slumber, only waking up when the door swings open with a crack. You sit up and your hair falls into place right as Sera marches in like she owns the place, looking more pissed off than when she saw Solas outside of the chantry building.

“So this is where the bloody hell you’ve been.” She says, not quite shouting but too loud for you all the same. “Had to look all over for you, those kiddos of yours have been bothering me with their constant worrying as to why they haven’t seen ya.”

“I was here all along.”

“Well no  _ shite _ , I even looked here a couple times but,” she pauses to scratch her head. “Well, I didn’t see you in any case.” 

“I might have been passed out on the floor.” You know perfectly well why she couldn’t find you but this excuse works just as well. That’s the first time Sera seems to realize you’re hurt, her steps stalling but it’s too late for you to hide it from her. At least she will know what they’re from.

“Holy pusbucket, are those from that shitbag?” You nod and she gets closer, widely staring at the bruises on your body the most. “How’r you even moving right now, that looks real bad.”

You stand and slowly walk to your bag, attempting to show her you’re fine, gasping out in pain when you even try to bend over and retrieve a shirt within. 

Sera is by your side in an instant, practically pushing you into a chair before she snatches up your bag. She’s digging through it before you can even protest. She seems to know what you were going for without even asking and hands the worn out shirt to you, frowning all the while watching you struggle to put it on. 

She  _ knows  _ this is Solas’ cabin and has about a million questions regarding that alone but mostly you’re shocked to feel slight guilt. “Shoulda told me you were this bad, wouldn’t have left you alone ya know.”

“I’m not your responsibility, we only just met yesterday.” Her full lips screw up in irritation.

_ So what!  _ “So what! You just friggin said you were passed out on the floor, are you stupid or just stubborn.”

“Both, maybe.” You admit quietly, not sure how to react to what seems like legitimate concern from yet another stranger. Your words seem to deflate her initial anger but her foot still taps and her button nose is wrinkled. 

“Why are you even in here?” She finally decides to ask. Something about Sera makes you want her to like you but you also don’t want to lie.

“Solas and I are, well, acquaintances.” Saying friends doesn’t feel quite right. “I didn’t know where else to go and I wanted to be alone.”

“I’m not crazy about magic either but you realize ya coulda slipped into a coma or something right?  _ Solas  _ isn’t even here to do his magic thing.”

“I don’t fear magic I just,” you struggle to find the right words, your head beginning to pound again. “I couldn’t have anyone asking how I got the injuries, remember? I’ll be fine I just need time.

Sera throws up her hands, “That shite again?” 

You look at her through your hair but for once it’s actually hard to read accurately to see what she’s thinking, must be the head trauma. It puts you in a precarious position but you’re sure you don’t get a bad feeling of any sort from her at least.

“You’re not going to tell Emilee and Thomas right?”

“Course not. If they ask about you again I’ll just say you’re sick, guessing that’s better than this.” Relief floods you and you slump in the chair more. At least it was Sera who found you and not someone else, she’s shockingly compliant in listening to your wishes. 

Her large dark eyes are now looking at the fallen books and the sheets piled on the floor, leading next to the stripped bed.

“What now?” 

“What do you mean  _ what now _ ?” You look at her with wide eyes.

“He’s definitely the kind of person to get his panties in a bunch if he were to see this mess an’  _ you  _ can’t do anything.” You meet her gaze, you think this might be the first time to do so. Before in the tavern she mostly looked everywhere other than you eyes, not in a shifty way but it made it clear she usually doesn’t act so friendly with someone she just met. She was uncomfortable but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Sera, why are you helping me?” Suspicion nags and when she kind of flushes it only gets stronger.

“Well, I dunno. You’re like a kicked puppy, er no not that, but it’s like this. I don’t know the first thing about ya but it’s like, I think I can trust you? Dunno why, don’t get that impression from many people.” Very interesting. Sera doesn’t like elves that are too elfy, magic, or anything of the sort but she appears to be sensitive. You don’t think she acknowledges it in any sense but she is definitely affected by you. Usually only people in tune with another side of themselves can feel anything and Sera strikes you as the kind of person who would go against that instinct like most others.  

“And being a kicked puppy makes you want to help me?”

“I said you  _ weren’t  _ like that, changed my mind after I saw you beat up guy. But ya I guess, doesn’t make me  _ not _ want to help you, even if it’s for the sake of the bunched panties.” She mumbles, definitely not wanting to do anything for Solas but willing to do it for you? 

Despite your pain you actually smile, not that she’s facing you right now. She’s pointedly not looking at you after her out of character admission. You have had quite a few people throughout life that have reacted similarly when they realized they spilled their whole life out to you for no reason, some not even realizing until they were probably on their way home and wonder why the ‘Maker’ they did that. 

“Thank you Sera, it really helps me out truthfully.” Her cheeks flare out in embarrassment but she starts picking up the books anyway, having zero interest in any of them considering their contents she makes quick work of that and starts untangling the sheets.

“Gonna owe me so many drinks,” she mutters but truthfully you really wouldn’t mind that. She’s a positive reminder of how very different people can be yet still be good, in their own way. 

You look at your bag that Sera rummaged through for your shirt before glancing at her, using your foot to slide it towards yourself quietly. You had to hold back your distraught noise when she did so, almost never allowing other people to ever see the contents inside but she seemingly didn’t get a good look because of her one focus. 

You can’t do much more than make sure the bag is fully closed up before sliding it against the wall nearly out of sight before Sera is done with the bed, smacking her hands together when she gets the last sheet down. It looks a little frumpy but at least they are on, the stress of the mess already lessened from the back of your mind.

“Thank you Sera,” you say again when she turns to you but she just shrugs.

“Wha’ever, now I can leave your stubborn ass here without feeling like you’ll hurt yourself trying to do stupid things.” She sounds annoyed but you can tell she’s secretly pleased with herself. 

It doesn’t even cross her mind as to acquire for you other needs but you don’t mind, even when she leaves saying she will check in tomorrow if you still haven’t left, promising destruction if Emilee and Thomas burst into the tavern looking for you again. Your stomach clenches with hunger but you figure if you really need to you can just make your way to the kitchens later when hopefully no one else is awake, even if it means stealing stale bread. 

You eye the bed but ultimately decide to stay slumped in the chair, it is cushioned after all so it’s not uncomfortable. 

You decide to pass the hours away by drifting in and out of sleep, the burning in your lower back waking you up on occasion badly enough for you to grit your teeth but it always fades to a dull ache which lulls you back down. You rest your head upon the table full of books at an awkward angle that makes you neck crick but it’s that position that finally allows you to drift into a deeper sleep, as if the wall of books will protect you.

******

_ The sound of rushing leaves makes your eyelashes flutter heavy against your cheek, irises stinging against the cool sunlight streaming through the branches. Your stature if that of a child’s, dirty knees and flimsy borrowed dress that’s too big. You look at your small fingers placidly, the feeling inside hollow and familiar as a house constructs itself in front of you, one that pleads to be recognized. _

__ _ Smoke rises from the chimney, indication of life within that has your feet moving forward, slowly and calculated. An unrelenting feeling that this is wrong but not from you then, but from  _ you _. Your level of unfeeling is so familiar and terrifying, even knowing what lies beyond the door. _

__ _ You do not knock but instead stroll in, the scent of sickness being nearly overpowering for your sensitive nose. The walls shimmer as they try to remember their exact design, time making the lines blurred while they threaten to drift away entirely. Only the bed remains in focus, a weathered wrinkled hand resting atop the blankets but unmoving until you stand bedside.  _

_ His eyes are sunken but still alert when he rolls over to look at you, a warm smile on his thin lips. He has aged considerably in the time that you’ve been away but somehow still the same, struggling with illness his a good majority of his life has taken its toll yet he still looks happy to see you. _

_ “I remember,” he says faintly which jars you, your small body tightening as you stare at him blankly. You squirm inside your own skin. _

_ “I remember too.” It’s your voice that responds but small and bordering on the first signs of emotion, distress. You remember standing by his bedside often just like this, an odd feeling often threatening to burst inside your chest but never quite. When your fingers lightly drape over his wetness blooms in your eyes, something you never did in his presence.  _

_ “You’ve changed,” his voice is full of wonder and you find your head bobbing as your real emotions flood your insides, the carefully built image of your younger self breaking down yet remaining the same.  _

_ “You were always like a doll with something missing and yet now you cry for me.” His wrinkled hand holds yours, trembling slightly. “I am so happy.” _

_ “I’m sorry,” as the tears leak down your nose it’s the only thing you can think to say. “I’m so sorry.”  _

_ He looks at you in understanding. _

_ “I must know, have you learned to be happy with yourself?” You look at him with red rimmed eyes, desperately wishing you could say  _ yes  _ to the question he posed to you long ago as well. _

_ “I don’t know.” _

_ He smiles and chastely pecks the back of your hand, “I hope you find what you’re looking for Charlotte.” His hand slips from yours moments later and the house comes apart at the seams and drift away, the ground sinking as you fall with it. _

******

You wake up with a start, blood pumping in your ears, hand clenched as if still trying to hold on to the one that fell from yours. Jared. 

Your face is dry of any tears when you wipe it but your throat feels raw. He’s gone. The loss widens the pit in your chest but you hold it together, you feel ridiculous mourning him when in your time together you struggled to feel a connection one is supposed to have with another person. It was only after you left that you felt the effects of what your time together meant, for him, for you and for the person you are today. 

You stagger to your feet and kneel by your bag heavily, gently digging through it until you find what you’re looking for. 

The handmade notebook was your first, made by Jared’s hand alone. 

He was the man who told you how writing down what you’re feeling and observations of other things could change your perspective, and possibly teach you how to connect with yourself. 

When you went to him for a Calling he had just lost his young daughter to a sickness that swept through the town, something he would have allowed himself to fall victim to as well in his grief if you hadn’t showed up. 

You knew at first he saw you as a replacement of sorts, you were the right age and quiet temperament that reminded him of her in some ways, you think that is the first thing that had him fighting for his life again. Though his sickness would be permanent in some ways you managed to stabilize him but that’s when he realized your oddness. 

You were not simply quiet as he first thought but withdrawn, from your surroundings, from him and yourself. Even now you remember what it felt like to be disengaged like walking through some dream you couldn’t quite understand even while doing your Calling’s duty. Helping people served no purpose for you internally. Jared never gave up on you, whether it was from his own internal sorrow or some other reason you couldn’t comprehend, not until later. 

You slowly run your fingers over your childlike handwriting, the short dull sentences of trying to describe things and how you felt towards them. You smile sadly when you read through the thoughts of a lost little girl, knowing things you shouldn’t and struggling to put names to the few things that they made you feel. 

If Jared hadn’t tried to help you, would you be the way you are now you wonder. 

“ _ Have you learned to be happy with yourself? _ ” The question is one you remember well, after spending nearly two years with him at that point he sprung the question on you one night while the both of you ate.

_ You’d looked at him over the rim of your bowl, your lips turning down at the corners subtly. You hated when he asked you such things, making you think internally about what you’re thinking and feeling. His light eyes twinkled even back then when he knew he was forcing you to consider yourself. It had been a busy day helping Jared do the chores around his small house and whatever duties he had to do in town, when you were an elven child people were often less outwardly atrocious to you especially since they most likely assumed you were Jared's little helper or slave. That didn’t bother you in a normal sense but Jared had tried to get you to play with some of the shemlem children that very day. One of the little girls with ringlets of hair didn’t take too kindly to you more or less being pushed into their game, waiting until she thought Jared had walked away until going in on you. _

_ “We don’t want you to play with us,” She’d said haughtily. “We don’t need any dumb kids ruining the game.”  _

_ You’d looked at her with a rather bored expression, “What makes you think I want to play with you.” In truth you would have rathered do anything other than interact with this group but something about Jared’s face looked so… hopeful. It made you stay in place instead of walk after him. _

_ “Then go run back to your master, no one wants you here.” You frowned slightly but maybe you should, if you went back slowly enough he might even think you tried to stay for more than a couple minutes.  _

_ You went to turn when the girl had to open her mouth again, “Bet he doesn’t even want you there, why would he? There’s no reason he should have to take care of a… a knife ear.” Her face flushed with the excitement and nervousness at saying the words that she must have known would hurt anyone else in your position.  _

_ But that wasn’t what made you pause. _

_ “Jared does want me around.” You’d said, feeling something very odd creeping into your chest. He did want you around, didn’t he?  _

_ Noticing your hesitation the girl kept going despite the uncomfortable looks from her playmates. “Nuh uh, I bet he doesn’t. You’re creepy and weird, you just show up out of nowhere and force him to take care of you.” You just looked at her for a long time, chewing on the inside of your lip.  _

_ Jared smiled so much though, doesn’t that mean he was happy? Does how you act and look actually affect him?  _

_ No, something clicked for a second inside you right then. You always got a nice feeling from Jared from the moment you met him, something that could even make you relax. He liked your quirks and complications even if it did make things difficult at times, he’d said so himself. And if he likes you then there must be something worth liking. _

_ “Shut up,” you said, suddenly cross. The girl seemed startled by your sudden change because her arms uncross like you just tore down an invisible shield.  _

_ “What?”  _

_ “I said, shut up. You don’t know anything about me, I’m… I’m a good person.” Could that be true? Could you be a good person after everything? _

_ “You can’t tell me to shut up,” the girl was at the beginning of a hissy fit after her initial shock, her dangling arms coming up to shove you. You were standing more firmly than she thought because you took the weak hit in stride before knocking her back sharply, a shriek having escaped her when she fell to the ground.  _

_ Jared had been there in a second, apparently not having gone far at all and watching to see how you would get along with the others. Before the girls mother could come he swept you away back to his house, you couldn’t read his face well in the moment but you just sat quietly at the dinner table while he cooked like nothing happened.  _

_ But then he had to ask you that question. _

_ “I don’t know what you mean,” you replied sullenly. “Do you mean am I happy I pushed her?” You thought maybe he could be upset with you for doing it, he did say many times that wasn’t the way to deal with things just because something or someone might get in your way. _

_ “That’s the first time I’ve seen you react that way about anything,” Jared clarified. “I was just wondering if it was because you finally found something internally that you didn’t before. Are you happy with yourself?” The question boggled you to no extent, unsure how you felt towards yourself or how to respond to him.  _

_ You one day left him still without answering. _

You cradle the notebook close to yourself. He remembered you in his last moments and somehow still you couldn’t answer his question, he died without even knowing your real name. This forms real name. You wonder if he would have felt the same about you if he knew more, but maybe it wouldn’t have mattered to him.

You sit there for a while staring off into space, going over names and places, finding only the one out of place. 

It’s only once that’s done that you notice what you originally did not before, you slept through to the next day. You feel considerably better than you did before in body and soul despite Jared's passing, allowing you to finally get up and test of how healed you are. Already thoughts are starting to filter back into your head, still more slowly than usual but that’s nothing to complain about. When you try to lift up your bag your kidney region still cry for you to stop but at long as you’re standing upright with no weight and not hunched over it’s much more bearable at least. 

You finally leave Solas’ room for the first time in three days by poking your head out first, you don’t want to leave your stuff in his space but you physically can’t bring it with you at the moment. You make up your mind to head to the bathhouse as you throw your cloak on before seeing if Emilee and Thomas are around but you don’t get the chance. 

It looks like they are heading back to bother Sera when they spot you, their smiles practically beaming as they run for you with open arms. 

As they hug you and you grin vaguely at them, you wonder if you will ever feel happiness for yourself or if it will only ever be for other people.

  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things finally start to pick up in the story :')

The Inquisition's forces arriving back takes everyone by surprise except for yourself. 

You  _ were  _ shocked when you felt the overwhelming magic that could only come from the Harald’s mark at a distance but the time seemed too short that they were away, unless they had been riding through nights as well as days.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if that prick did that,” Sera says sourly as she sits next to you on the rock wall, at this point Inquisition forces had announced the group back arriving and she awaits with you. “This one time I told him I had to take a piss and he told me could do it in my  _ own time _ . Can ya believe that?”

From the things that Sera had been telling you the past month or so you could believe that, it’s what makes you so worried to see what condition Solas and Varric are in. You fingers twist in your lap painfully until Sera reaches over to stop you, looking at you in slight irritation.

_ Hate when she does that _ , Sera thinks which makes you stop outwardly at least.

“Why are you even acting all frazzled, only Varric is cool in that group and you know it. Even then he can really get on my last friggin nerve.” 

“I know you don’t believe me but Solas isn’t all that bad,” you send her a small smile when you glimpse her thoughts. “Plus you know I’ve been reading all his books, he basically promised a conversation about them when he got back.”

“You can discuss them with me!”

“You want to talk about Spirits and their theoretical-”

“No, forget it.” Sera says grumpily. The two of you have an understanding after the one night you finally paid back Sera with drinks, all of which she drank while leaving you sober, and she demanded to know your thoughts about things. 

You did admit your interest in all things Solas usually tries to ‘bother’ her about in their few times traveling together but you also told her that just because some of your opinions differed didn’t mean you couldn’t be friendly. Her face had flushed bright under her light hair from both drink and the understanding that you basically just accepted her without a second thought. 

“You fidget  _ so  _ much,” Sera points out once again which makes you sigh.

“Shouldn’t they already have showed up?”

Sera chooses to ignore that question, “Books get you really excited, huh.” 

“Learning is all I have,” you say without thinking, not so much as blinking. You don’t see the way Sera gives you a side eye before her attention is caught by the group emerging from the tree line.  

Once more Cullen is the first to greet them as they get closer as well as a woman you have learned is Josephine the ambassador. If she’s out here as well something must be going on for sure, but that will have to wait you suppose with all these other people around and their mental chatter. You need to start actually getting answers so you can start making subtle action. 

Like you suspected along with Sera they all look exhausted, Cassandra who usually seems so poised and strong has long shadows under her eyes and stumbles ever so slightly getting off her horse. Varric doesn’t look any better as he looks his crossbow over with his head unnecessarily turned down, as if to hide his expression carefully. 

You look at Solas and bite your lip a little too hard. Unconsciously people nearby are shifting uncomfortably as if a cold wind is biting through their clothes, yet the weather today is mild. It’s as if an unseen storm is winding up in a concentrated area and you suppose it  _ could  _ actually be despite Solas’ granite like exposure. He looks tired but in a completely different way than the others, striking a chord in you, a bad feeling. 

“Sera,” you say her name quietly before you can stop yourself, looking to her and seeing an uneasy look on her face. 

“Uh, what?”

“I just… hm…” you suddenly blush, for a moment you forgot you weren’t with somebody who knows about your quirks. Though now that you think about it no one else here does either, except the kids to some extent. But considering company in times past Sera has been rather pleasant for the time she decided to seek you out more to now. “...Something feels off.” 

Surprisingly Sera doesn’t question it, definitely thinking it’s just your gut instinct she actually agrees.

“Somethings up,” she says but you can feel herself closing off in moments where she thinks she might spill something to you that she isn’t supposed to. It’s not impenetrable by any means for you but you’ve been hesitant to push past her in moments like this, not bringing yourself to use it against her in the time that she’s warmed up to you.  

You watch the ragged looking Harald who has launched into a quiet but harsh whisper with Cullen and Josephine as he leaves all his stuff to be unpacked by others. When Josephine takes the lead the blonde commander lags behind and briefly touches Cassandra’s shoulder, her head shaking as he seems to question her about something. She follows behind them to what you can only assume is to the war room.

“I’m gonna talk to Varric,” Sera interrupts your wonderings rather suddenly as she stands up, hopping down the wall nimbly without so much as a second look back. When she reaches the dwarven man at the gate he finally looks up from his crossbow, greeting her before he notices you watching. Whatever Sera says to him makes him smile slightly, a hand raising to you in greeting that you slowly return. 

But when they are gone and the crowd starts to disperse which leaves you to look after Solas, who has seemed to have disappeared right under your nose. 

Your head swings around before you see him strolling briskly to his cabin, making you jump up like a fire is lit under your behind. That harsh feeling is still lingering around him and even trailing behind him to the point that you have to side step around the energy, he is either ignoring you or hasn’t realized that you’re nearby because when he enters his cabin the door slams shut with a crack. 

Studying the wood you are forced to pause. 

It’s a sense of foreboding that wafts towards you as your hand hovers over the doorknob, fingers wavering as they feel the cackle of magic with the metal acting as a conductor. You nearly turn tail and run, perhaps another day you should return when he’s had time to rest up after his journey. 

Yet you have a feeling you should go in, and that’s stronger than your running urge. 

When your hand finally clamps down you let out a surprised noise as you’re shocked, jerking back before frowning and doing it again, swinging the door open. Solas instantly turns to look at your intrusion with eyes like slits.

“I am not in the mood.” He says chillingly, his traveling cloak thrown over the back of a chair and revealing the messy state of his clothes. 

“I know,” you say softly, folding your arms behind your back nervously. “But I…” you falter as you try to choose the words carefully, usually you would know how to at least comfort somebody but he’s so blocked off to you that you are un-confident in your abilities against him, realizing you don’t even know where to start.

“You. What.” His voice is clipped as his back faces you, eyes widening as he begins the strip his first layer off. You stare at your feet and chastise yourself when you find them wandering curiously up, heat clawing its way up your neck despite the situation. 

“I was talking with Sera-”

“ _ Always  _ full of good ideas that one.” He interrupts you as he walks out of view into the small other room, his magic is stifling enough you don’t need something else to distract you.

“She filled me in on what kind of a person the Herald is,” you rush it out, hoping he won’t cut you off again. “I guess I was worried.”

A very long silence follows and you twist your fingers behind your back as you scan the room, the bed has long been in place and so have his books the only thing out of the ordinary is your bag but that’s an easy enough fix. But you don’t want to leave, not until the bad feeling goes away. 

When you look up from your feet next you stiffen involuntarily, Solas is standing not far from you and you completely failed to notice. You forget how much you’ve come to depend on your abilities with simple things like surroundings until he is right in front of you and you can’t even tell. 

His storm is closer now and you swear you can smell the rain on the brink of falling, but the energy just starts winding itself around you too. 

“Worried.” He says the word like he’s unfamiliar with it. 

Even though his voice sounds less sharp than before you still can’t even begin to discern his thoughts. 

“I was worried about you,” you clarify without blinking, it only feels natural to be honest about your thoughts if you actually do want to help. Solas’ eyes round out again and for the first time it strikes you that they aren’t as steely as your originally thought, right now they almost look strangely warm brown.

“I see.” He finally replies. “I apologize for worrying you, but there is no need.” It sounds so much like yourself that for a split moment an uncomfortable laugh threatens to burst from your lips but you stop yourself by biting down, he still feels too close to comfort to blowing up that you don’t want to make a mistake. 

“I know, you’re a lot more capable than most everyone here.” You admit, mouth running like it usually does in his presence. “But even the strong can get… overwhelmed.”

Solas looks at you closely, his head lacking its usual comfortable tilt as the lines on his face become hard again.

“Overwhelmed, no.  _ I am filled with rage _ .” 

“ _ What fills you with rage _ ?” You slip into the elvhen language easily and the words seem to visibly soothe him as well as calm the winding storm that leaves you finally exhaling. 

His probing eyes, you wonder if you will ever get used to them.

“ _ I am unsure if I should share with you, da’len. _ ” 

“ _ I am  _ not  _ da’len, _ ” your eyebrows slant down. “ _ If you do not wish to tell I understand, ma melava halani so I only wished to do the same. _ ” His magic floats around the room now like an invisible mist and your fingers try in vain to feel if there’s any actual moisture, it feels so real. Especially this close to him.

He always seems to think his words over carefully and once more you wonder what the inside of his head is like, glancing over his face. How surprisingly long his eyelashes are, the angular chisel of his features, the full autumn color of his lips. 

“ _ The Harald, _ ” those lips move. “ _ He brought us to Val Royeaux to meet with the Chantry and Templars. _ ”

“ _ Did it not go well? _ ”

“ _ Indeed, it is as all foolish plans usually end. As if the Chantry insulting us as we all arrived was not enough the Templars and their leader Seeker Lucius then brutalized the woman speaking before declaring their opposition with the order as well. _ ” You eyes widen at this news but say nothing, allowing him to continue. “ _ Despite the Templars obvious instability our commander and Harald insist on making their way to their stronghold to strike up a deal. _ ”

That… doesn’t make any sense, your hand coming to rest up under your jaw as you think. If you understand all of what Solas said you truly wonder what they could be thinking, it sounds like the remaining Templars already have their own plans. It makes something tingle at the back of your mind though you’re not sure what.

“ _ What does Seeker Cassandra think? If anyone would have sound insight wouldn’t it be her? _ ” 

“ _ She said that was not the Lord Seeker Lucius she knew before, that his actions were unlike anything she’s ever seen him do. _ ” You scan your mind for information on the Seekers, you thought you once read usually they are only allowed to take command of the Templars in extraordinary circumstances. 

Sure there is a war between mages and templars but…

“ _ They won’t even consider finding the rebel mages first? As far as I know they at least haven’t outright acted hostile towards the Inquisition. _ ”

Solas gives you a look before saying, “ _ In fact, the leader of the rebel mages approached us there as well. She invited us to Ferelden to negotiate with her but it seems most are unwilling to even go to see what she has to say. _ ” So  _ that’s  _ why he’s so angry, probably among other things, but the fact that things seem so bad with the templars why wouldn’t they consider meeting with the mages? 

“ _ Abelas, I did not realize things were so bad. Is there anything you can do to change their minds? _ ”

“ _ I am doubtful,  _ he  _ does not value my opinion and the others even in their own doubts have little choice but to follow his lead. _ ” 

“ _ Then why bring you? _ ” You ask in confusion. “ _ Why bring you all that way if he doesn’t wish to listen to anything you have to say? _ ” 

Solas has resorted to pacing but talking to him through the issues seems to have made him feel a bit better, the storm is basically non existent at this point and that bad feeling has waned somewhat. Yet another one seems to have taken its place, much worse. Your fingers twist together as your thoughts linger on the templars, but what exactly about them? 

“He was in need of a skilled healer for the long journey, especially with his intent to run into as many possible rifts as he could on both ways.” Solas returns to the common tongue which in some ways is a relief so you don’t have to inwardly translate as quickly as you were. 

Yet no wonder they all seemed to be in rough shape, riding as fast as they could with no rests between battling demons. It’s amazing Solas still has so much magical reserves left if he must have been the one keeping everyone on the right side of the brink of exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “You would have a lot more to offer if only he would let you.” Solas pauses in his pacing to look at you with a tired expression, for once his eyes only looking at you a moment before looking around his cabin. 

“Thank you.” He says after a moment. “Forgive me but I would like to rest, the coming days may be more trials of such caliber and I need to be able to think clearly.”

“Of course, I’ll leave you be. Let me know if you need anything.” You tell him, scooting over to your bag before looking down at it. 

You bite the inside of your lip before bending down and grabbing the straps, feeling a twinge of pain in your lower back that makes you inhale through your teeth. 

You look at Solas out of the corner of your eye, hard to tell if he heard anything but you don’t want to pause for him to ask questions. 

The bag rests on your shoulders like a missing piece but after a month of not carrying it around it feels heavier than you remember. You pause in the doorway and look back at him, sitting on the edge of his bed as he nods, your mind racing as the door closes behind. 

You roll over everything Solas told you with a great concentration for the remainder of the day, Emilee and Thomas playing together not far from where you stare off at an unknown point. Something is bothering you but you’re not quite sure what, that fingernail feeling scraping away at the back of your mind. 

You’re lucky Sera took her bow out for practice after talking to Varric so she’s not currently around as a distraction.

The kids heads bob as they run, Emilee’s dark strands flowing out behind her and Thomas’ lighter hair catches in the sunlight. But you don’t see their delighted smiles, instead you suddenly see Celia’s pale face. Your spine straightens slowly as you hear them practically whisper themselves to you  _ “Things are about to change bitch, I don’t have to worry about what you or anyone else considers a mistake again.”  _ The templars nearly forgotten words make your fingers curl. 

They were infected with the red lyrium already at that point even if not as fully so like the ones in the Hinderlands, but that was before the conclave blew up. 

They shouldn’t have already been rebelling at that point, the red templars only started showing up other places when the war broke out. 

But what does that  _ mean _ ? 

Did they  _ know  _ it was going to happen? 

If so that means that whatever caused the explosion wasn’t an accident and was premeditated, yet not all of the templars became red some joined Cullen so only a select few were either involved or  _ not  _ involved. 

You then recall what Solas told you just that very day, how Cassandra hardly recognized her fellow Seeker Lucius that they encountered in Val Royeaux. You may not have ever directly interacted with the dark haired woman but she certainly feels as noble as everyone makes her out to be, you don’t think she would know anything about the situation and not tell anyone. 

So maybe corruption is already among her ranks as well and no one is even aware of it. 

Anxiety prickles in your chest and stomach, feeling suddenly as if you might be sick. 

Your bad feeling lingers like a dark cloud over your head even as you bring the kids to the stables to take care of the harshly ridden horses, it grows when they leave your side to join their mother for dinner and it practically eats away at you as you try in vain to sleep that night. You cannot stop the rolling thoughts from coming back again and again and again.

You look at Emilee’s peaceful sleeping expression against the candle light on the bedside table to two of you share. The cabin is filled with sounds of sleep as all the other girls have drifted off into the late night, one girls whimpering but not waking up as she turns over. 

Your fingernails scratch across your own skin anxiously, not noticing the red skin rising angrily as you sit up against your scratchy pillow. You can’t ignore it.

You scoot your bag quietly under Emilee’s bed along with her boots and cloak, knowing that if this takes long she will see it in the morning and watch it until you’re back. 

You smooth the girls hair away from her face before easing the door open and bracing out into the cold. Your thin shirt whips around you as you run through the dark, blood hammering in your veins as you stop in front of the familiar wooden door. 

The windows are dark, Solas is almost certainly sleeping but you can’t wait any longer than you have.

Your knuckles rap on it quietly and you reach around but the camp is quiet in body and mind, hopefully meaning the two of you will have privacy. How will he react to what you have to tell him, will he even listen to you?  

When he fails to open the door you knock a little louder and pause, rolling on the back of your feet and trying to let the chill soothe your fraying nerves. It feels like forever that you wait there before you go to knock again, debating on how angry he would be if you just went it when it finally opens. 

The dark of the room behind him is like a void, swallowing the edges of his form. He’s wearing his jaw bone around his neck and it rests against the paleness of his bare chest, making you shift uneasily. You have no time for embarrassment however as you force your eyes to his face, he must have been sleeping heavily by the lines on his cheek. However his eyes still have their glint of constant awareness that make the nerves stir even more.

“Solas, I think I need your help.” You tell him before he can speak, his chin tilting with curiosity before his gaze wanders down to where you are still scratching your nails against your skin. You quickly stop, “And maybe I can help you too.”

Solas for once doesn’t hesitate to open the door wider and let you in, your body brushing past his. The door closes and you feel him close behind you before continuing your steps, fidgeting as Solas makes slow work of lighting a couple of his candles. He seems to be moving purposefully slowly and you get the impression he’s waking himself up more so he can properly listen to whatever you have to tell him. 

Finally he settles in his chair by the unlit fireplace as he finally shrugs on a shirt, hand hovering like he’s considering lighting it yet deciding not to when he sees you scratching at yourself again.

“What is so important for you to come at this hour?” He finally questions and offers you to sit across from him with a motion of his slender fingers, feeling yourself plop down into the comfortable cushion.

“I think the templars are in trouble, or  _ are  _ the problem.” You bite your lip but Solas’ careful expression doesn’t falter,  _ better not mention your suspicions of the seekers at this moment _ . 

“Explain.”

“What you told me today it made me remember the small town I lived in for a brief time before I came here. The templars rampaged and were killing people, taking liberties. I… well I was looking for somebody when I ran into a group myself, they were definitely infected with the red lyrium, though I didn’t know it at the time. One of them said the most particular thing,” and so you fill in Solas on everything that you can that doesn’t involve Celia or Sweet James or any of the other children or what you were doing there,  _ or your calling _ . You can’t tell what he thinks of your thoughts on the situation but he doesn’t interrupt you even once until it’s clear you’re done. 

“A few questions, if I may.” Solas says after taking a moment to contemplate, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the wood flooring. You watch his shoulders roll forward and swallow before nodding, before realizing he can’t see it. 

“You’re sure they were red templars, how?” 

You knew this would probably be a question but you’re still nervous as you twist your hair around your finger. “They felt… off. Not like in the way that they were acting like how most people can tell but they stung me, stung my senses.”

“Are you a mage?” He’s looking up at you now but hasn’t moved.

“No, I never lied I’m really not a mage. I have no… magical powers.” He must hear how you say this because he waits, your voice softly clearing. 

“I just have more… heinted senses? I sense people, how they feel and I get these _feelings._ They are very accurate beyond just following my gut.” Still no reaction. “I know when people are in trouble because I can feel it, sometimes it’s subtle like someone has had an especially bad day.” Solas shifts at that. “Other times I would be running across half a city to reach someone who was drowning in the middle of the night, or to find a killer lurking around a children’s school, or even get stabbed in somebody else’s place when their abusive father finally lost it.” 

“Are you compelled to follow these feelings?” Solas rests his chin in his palm, fingers partially concealing the lower half of his face. He sounds both enthralled with this revelation and perhaps… guarded? 

“In a way, I have a choice to some extent and I can ignore the less severe ones but… well… why would I?” You suddenly feel calmer than you did before, you don’t have to say anything about the Calling without any of this being a lie. “If I can help somebody than I want to, it doesn’t matter if I can ignore them and pretend it isn’t happening because it still  _ is _ .”

“And your other senses, what are the extent of those?” 

You don’t pause because it would be suspicious, but you do feel your innards curl as you lie. “It’s not much, I just feel magic like it’s… it’s…” You hand motions around as you try to find the right wording. Then you feel magic brush up against you, that cold tickling feels of Solas who must be reaching out to provide you with an opportunity to actively interact. 

You don’t disappoint him when you reach out as if to touch it, but once more you feel nothing around your hands, just inside. 

“Can you see it?” He asks with raised brows and you feel the magic move, following it. 

“No, I just sense it. This is what I would consider casual magic that you’re reaching out with, everyone has their own magical feeling but when they conjure up a spell it’s like what they are casting.” Solas’ magic retreats as he sits back in his chair with his arms crossed in thought, his face passive once more. You watch the candles flame flicker.

“ _ He  _ will think nothing of your revelations, but if what you said is true than we cannot seek the aid of the templars.” Solas finally says. “Perhaps the others will listen to reason if you were to tell them-”

“That’s the problem.” You interrupt quickly. “I don’t want them to know about any of this, about me.”

“Why?” 

You meet his serious gaze with your own, “Do you really have to ask? You of anyone should know how it is to be treated for being considered abnormal in any way. If I tell someone like Seeker Cassandra that I can sense magic and other such things along with  _ bad situations _ how do you think she would react?” 

The corner of Solas’ lips twitch before he concedes, “Not well, point taken. Then how would you suggest we move forward?” 

“There has to be a way to prove that the templars from the town made a move before the Divine died. I think the timing would be difficult however because by the time the news would have reached the other branches of the Chantry they would have been getting an influx of that activity anyway as the war broke out.” 

“Do you think individuals there would be able to accurately recount a timeline if they were questioned?” You think at Solas’ question and tap a finger against you lower lip. Nearly the whole town would remember the events surely but besides the children would anybody be able to help? 

The Chantry sisters would probably be adverse to sharing anything with the Inquisition with their current standing, the few rich nobles will have probably either moved on to places of better means by now and you never got good feelings from them, and the common folk are mostly uneducated. But using Celia and the others is out of the question, so only one person you know of can make the proper case.

“I guess I am the only one who can do this.” You realize. “I came from there, I can tell them about it just enough that it seems something to look into but not enough to implicate anything against me.” 

“If you wish, I could help you with preparing a speech. I may not have the same ability of Master Tethras in story telling but I may be of some use.” You slowly give Solas a smile, suddenly feeling unable to look directly at his face. It seems you put your trust into the right person.

The two of you discuss the best responses for anything that may come your way and the story that you will stick with for when you go to talk to the Spymaster the next morning. Not once does Solas make you feel weird for what you admitted to him and he talks you through his thoughts as steadily as he ever has. By the time the both of you are done it’s probably the very earliest hours of the morning and you can’t help but let out a large yawn, feeling your eyes prick with tears by the time you’re done.

“Perhaps we should stop, you need rest for whatever tomorrow may bring.” Solas says wisely, he himself looks more awake than you since he slept through the afternoon but you feel a little woozy yourself. 

“You’re right, I need to make sure I remember everything.” You say lowly, rubbing your eyes gently. Now that your anxiety has been put wayside you feel exhausted and the thought of finally being able to sleep makes you yearn for your bed. 

Solas stands when you stand, standing close enough that your eyes start to pick apart the stitching of his shirt. “Thank you Solas, for everything.” You go to step around him but your heart leaps in your throat suddenly when his long fingers wrap around your wrist. Normally such a thing would send you careening to create distance but you don’t pull away, just turn to him again curiously. 

“Wait.” His lips press into a line and strangely when you meet his gaze his eyes flick away. “Why is it that you decided to confide in me?” You blink slowly and when you shift you can’t help but notice how warm his hand is against your skin, your heart continuing it’s abnormal beating in your veins.

“I thought that should be obvious.” You say innocently. “I like you Solas, I think I get a good feeling about you.” Now you  _ really  _ don’t know what’s going on because despite the dark you swear you suddenly see the tips of his ears burn a different shade. He quickly releases his grip on your wrist so his arms hang awkwardly at his sides.

“I… thank you.” He mouth stalls as if he will say something but he seems to struggle with himself before finally settling on saying, “It has been a long time since I could consider another person as  _ Lethallan _ , a friend.” 

Your lips part slightly as you stare at him full on now, not being able to help the grin that moves in on your face. Solas finally looks back to you and his eyes widen ever so slightly before he grants you a small smile back, a real one.

“Goodnight then,  _ Lethallin _ .” You say as you start to back away towards the door, that goofy grin still on your face as you ease the door open. This walk back to your own cabin is much less rushed as you pause to look up into the stars of the graying sky, arms stretched out like an eagle. When you finally crawl back into your bed you fall into sleep almost immediately, not able to dream before you have to wake up once more.

That morning you tell Emilee to relay the message to Thomas after they eat breakfast with their mother that you have plans, not sure how long or rigorous the conversation with the spymaster will be. You wish you had remembered to ask Solas more about the actual person behind the title but as always you got distracted by him.

And so you find yourself standing in front of the tent that you’ve seen so many spies running to and from. One now bumps into you as they exit, his surprised mumbling stringing out behind him as you attempt to peek inside. There is that hooded woman that you’ve only glimpsed once before with her back turned to you and luckily seems to be alone for the moment.

You can’t exactly knock before entering so you just pause after opening the flap, the figure swaying as she looks over her shoulder. Her light blue eyes nearly pierce through your being, and before she even turns to you, you recognize her.

“Yes? What can I do for you?” Her voice lilts with instant sharpness but it’s definitely her and you feel goosebumps rise on your flesh.

Leliana. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things become clearer

You nearly blurt out her name at the realization that it’s her and physically cover your lips with your hand, trying to pass it off as softly clearing your voice.

“E-Excuse me,” a good start. “I’m sorry to just barge in, but I wasn’t sure who else to speak to about… certain matters.” 

“And who told you to take these matters to me?” Leliana questions suspiciously, adjusting her gloves before motioning you forward. It’s like you’re attached to strings on her fingers because you numbly stumble forward, feeling pressure build in your chest.

She looks so much like the person from back then, her face still youthful and her hair short and bright. But her expression is cold of a woman who has seen too many things, someone who’s changed from the optimistic faithful girl you once knew. 

“Solas told me if I had any concerns I should see you.” You say, desperately trying to remember everything you had prepared. “As I now have such concerns, I thought I would come to you. I thought maybe they may interest you as well.” 

Not the best recovery you’ve ever done but she doesn’t seem overly skeptical of you yet, though her eyes are looking you over. Definitely a harder to read person but in more ways than one, overlapping memories fluttering behind your eyelids like emerging butterflies long since cocooned. You must repress it for now.

“Talk then, what brings you here?” Leliana definitely wonders what Solas has to do with this for a moment but you doubt it’s escaped her notice that you’ve spent time in his company before. Both you and Solas thought it was for the best that you used him as a casual reference in any case.

Leliana leans against the post as you fiddle with your fingers, not able to help but look over her face closely for detail from behind your hair. You tell her the only slightly altered version of you experience that you and Solas made up as you can’t help but sadly notice more differences between her and her past self. 

Of course she would change in the… ten or so years since you last saw her, her skin paler and less freckled, the smallest lines appearing around her eyes and mouth from excess stress. She feels… like cackling coals after a roaring fire, not dying but casting long shadows instead. 

You tell her of the templars words spoken so ominously to you and explain that a _couple_ _common soldiers_ stepped in while you were getting attacked but they didn’t stand a chance, leaving you to wonder if the templars were red. 

“Interesting, so you think that the templars are involved in the explosion.” You don’t like the way she is looking at you right now or how her mind is shifting, did you say something wrong? "Thank you for bringing it to light.”

“Um… you’re welcome.” Was it really that easy? No, you’re getting confused.

“I am interested however in your name. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

You feel emotion billow in your chest, “You might have just seen me around, I’ve been here for at least a little while now.”  _ No of course she doesn’t know you, how could she? _

“But your name?” 

“Fayette.” 

“Fayette  _ what _ ?” 

“No last name, or title. Just Fayette.” You know that will bring up problems if she tries to dig into your background but you can’t really explain your last situation… or the one before that…. or before that. You will have to deal with things as they come, this is too important to not bring up if such steps are trying to be made by the Harald. 

“As you say,” her eyes narrow infestimately. “It’s an interesting bit of information if it ends up being true, perhaps I will send someone out to see what they can find.” She may sound off handed about the situation but it’s clear to you that she does actually intent to look into it, not wanting to side with the templars herself and making your lips twitch. She always has been sympathetic towards mages it’s what made it so easy to become her friend when you first met her, as well as having never batted an eye at the shape of your ears. 

“Thank you for taking the time to listen to me,” you say and she nods to you before turning her attention behind your back, one of her people having arrived back and looking at your invasion curiously. You just bow your head before ducking out, it feels strange that all that agitated stress was for such a small moment of your time but maybe that’s the point. But the presence of Leliana you couldn’t have guessed, she keeps so much so to herself that you were blindsided with the meeting. Somehow it never occurred to you that you could run into someone that you knew before your time. You know that most likely they were alive still in the time that you came back to now, as long as they weren’t killed. Yet to actually meet one. 

You’re still a little off kilter from the interaction when you seek out Emilee and Thomas who you find racing around with Sera. She may not like other elves but she seems to get along with kids, in a rough sort of way. They’ve warmed up to her and even though the blonde complains, she likes playing games with them. 

Sera waves to you before swearing when Thomas tags her and runs off, his short legs surprisingly fast. You would normally join in but instead you slump onto the ground and sit, resting your chin on your knees after slipping your heavy bag from your shoulders. You make yourself as small as possible and pop your cloaks hood over your head so you can think in peace, as much as you can, and finally allow the memories to unfurl.

It’s strange to experience the moments this body never lived through without dreaming it, remembering talking to her about shoes, battling alongside her, presenting the flower to her that reminded her of her mother that blossomed the whole close friendship. Her smiles, her hugs… and when she kissed your cheek goodbye. 

She had cried, the only time you had seen her do so. Her tears had fallen on your pallid skin that you could no longer feel it as you watched her stoop over your still body, trying in vain to bring the light back to your eyes. It was Sten of all people who finally put a large hand on her shoulder and demanded she stop, behind her _another is kneeling on the ground in utter despair, his fist shaking as he slams it into the ground_. _Evanescing away when you couldn’t stand it anymore, it was the last time you saw them._

You can’t think about him, no, you can’t. The emotion that wells inside you is confusing and deep, painful. You nose threatens to run as you harshly run the back of your hand against it, how are you supposed to act around Leliana with the secrets that you hold so deep down. The memories make you tremble.

“Did it go well?” You blink back tears as you turn your head up to look at Solas who stands next to you as silently as ever. It almost seems strange to see him out of his cabin, more so strange that he’s apparently come to seek you out for once. If he notices something is upsetting you he thankfully doesn’t bring it up, allowing you to take a breath and reset.

“Yes, I think so at least. It interested her enough that she said she would look into it.” 

“Excellent, even if it’s not much all we need is there to be resistance against the decision to side with the templars. Our spymaster is a quick worker, it shouldn’t be long before we hear news, one way or another.”

“Good. I just hope I did enough.” Solas looks down at you before actually sitting himself besides you, his posture perfect even on the hard ground.

“You have done more than most, do not sell yourself short.” You nod slightly at his words but don’t really feel the praise for what it is. You never feel like you do enough, isn’t there always something more that you could do?

_ Yes, but not without outing yourself for what you are. _

“What do you think will happen?” You ask Solas, turning your face to him which he already is. “This all seems like such an impossible situation, I can’t foresee what might come.”

“We must stop the war and close the breach while it still remains dormant, that requires giving the Harald’s mark more power. Once that is accomplished we must see what happens.” 

“What happens?” You think out loud but before the conversation can continue you hear the trample of feet, catching Thomas by his midsection before he barrels into your chest. 

“Big thithter, play with uth?” His round cheeks are ruddy from the cold and running around, making you smile softly as you hug his small frame to you.

“Not right now, but I promise I will later.” Thomas frowns but Emilee who walks up as well is smiling, staring outwardly at Solas who seems to be looking at the new scene with interest.

“Ith it ‘cuz of the old man?” You suck in your lips to stop from laughing at that yet again, especially when Solas’ eyebrows skyrocket at the young elf’s words. 

“He’s not an old man, I told you before that’s not a nice thing to say.” You pinch his cheek gently and he giggles. Sure you called him  _ Hahren  _ once but it was a jab because he tried to call you a child, but you’ve never thought of him as  _ old _ . 

“You’re the one who’s cabin we napped in, aren’t you?” Emilee asks as Sera finally makes her way over as well, but you can’t worry about her stormy expression because of current company because now Solas has a strange look on his face. 

“Uh… yeah it is.” You answer for him. You never told them to keep that a secret, not wanting them to have an adult in their life making them feel like they can’t talk about things. “This is Solas, my friend. You could thank him now for allowing us to use his space.”

“Thank you.” They chime in together, Solas’ head tilting before his face changes.

“It is no problem.” You know he will probably want to bring it up later about your abuse of his hospitality but you’re thankful he doesn’t do it in front of the kids. After a small awkward pause as Sera continues to stand there with a scowl on her face, you finally address her.

“Thank you for spending time with the kids this morning Sera,” you change the topic as smoothly as possible and she finally tears her gaze away from Solas.

“Didn’t do it for you,” she sniffs, definitely lying. “The little buggers found me and said you were busy doin’ shit, someone had to be their third player. What were you doing anyhow?” The kids blink at you owlishly, not even trying to hide their wonderment as well, making you draw your lip between your teeth.

“She had matters to attend to.” Solas answers which makes Sera’s small hands ball up.

“”Didn’t ask  _ you,  _ I was asking Fayette.” She says, outwardly hostile and making the kids titter uncomfortably. 

“Sera I will tell you later, okay?” You purposefully put your hands on the kids heads, frowning at her slightly which makes her finally stop. But you can tell she’s secretly pleased that you gave in so quickly, yet Solas gives you a side look as if he knows you plan on telling her the altered version instead. You like her, but you have no idea how she will react to even the small bits about yourself you’ve only just told the man sitting besides you.

“Tell her what?” Thomas asks obliviously but Sera has already turned gears.

“In  _ any _ case, I’m going to take my bow out now that you’re back. Drinks later, ya?” She’s itching to get away so you tell her ‘maybe’ non-committedly before she runs off, leaving you the kids and Solas.

“Now can you play?” 

“I actually have to go searching for some more requisition items, I was going to see if you wanted to tag along.” There’s instant agreement among the two that they do want to go with you so you stand up, turning to Solas who has yet to move.

“Are you coming?” You question and it’s like he realizes he can do so because he gets up very slowly.

“I was unsure how far the invitation extended.”

“I understand if you have other things to do, or if you want to be alone since you just got back.”

He pauses. “It may be quieter out there than in camp right now, actually.” 

Pleased to have him along you scoop your bag up and fight back a cringe at the twinge in your lower back, standing straight swiftly and following Thomas and Emilee. Getting the list of things you need you read it out for them, their little heads bobbing as they try to remember it all before running off. 

The rule is that they have to be in your sights at all times when out of bounds like this but the trees are pretty thin here, leaving a larger birth of space for you and Solas to walk quietly. He is as silent as one of the spirits he’s so fond of next to you which blissfully leaves you quiet inside as well, the only break of that being when the kids ask questions before racing off again. 

“I was unaware you’d gathered a following while I was away.” Solas finally comments with humor. You look at the sun streaming through the branches, creating designs across the snow. The kids boots prints joining the tracks of animals who walked the same paths. 

“Their mother works a lot, we fell into it naturally at some point. I just spend time with them when I can.”

“You seem a natural with children, have you spent much time with them?”

You brush your long hair over your shoulder, skimming your fingers through it for knots. “More so in recent years I suppose. I didn’t have overwhelming experiences with other children was I was young myself, it was only when I got closer to adulthood that I felt the connection.”

You’re sure you’re vague enough that saying so won’t raise questions and it seems you are correct because the topic passes right over. “It seems a great many things changed while I was away.” Solas says passively, watching you put the kids gathered items in provided tote once more before they run off holding hands. 

“Yes well, you were gone for a while. It’s more crowded than before and I have a feeling it’s only going to continue to be so, but we are starting to get more resources at least. Dinners are starting to get better, more people able to buy supplies for themselves too, so it’s not all bad.” But when you look at Solas you suddenly realize that’s not what he meant.

“Did something… happen while I was away?” 

You keep your face perfectly still, “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Solas looks displeased at your response but it’s too late because it’s like you sense that he somehow knows the one bad thing that occurred. You have no idea how he could, if anything was out of place in his cabin he could, it didn’t even happen inside his space and besides Sera no one else knows what happened that night. 

You had heard of the soldier who had a ‘bad riding incident while drunk” and witnessed the man sitting sideline while his brother in arms practiced, his black eye swelled a dark purple and his nose not looking much better. When he’d noticed you staring he'd started before turning away, he acted much the same every other time you had the unfortunate luck to be in the same general area. But you checked in mentally every once in a while to find he hadn’t made another move towards the girls since, a small victory. 

Solas’ lips part, intending to speak before you hear one of the kids start to cry. 

Your head whips around before seeing Thomas has just scraped his knee against a crunchy part of the snow. The interruption is welcome as you find the excuse to trudge in after him, leaving the heavy bag with Solas on the path. Emilee has come bounding over just as fast as you and seems relieved that you’re already looking over the small wound, blotting the small dots of blood on his knees with the end of your cloak.

“Are you okay?” You ask soothingly, gently wiping the stray tear in his eye lash. 

“Yeth,” he nods heavily before Emilee helps him stand again.

“I told you to be careful,” Emilee scolds like a small mother, making you both amused and sad. 

“Do you guys want to head back?” You question, secretly hoping they do to avoid the awaiting conversation behind you but Thomas sucks in his lower lip and denies it. So you’re forced to pause there kneeling as the kids go off again, slower this time. You look down at the snow where he fell, where the dots of red discolor the white. 

The soldiers nose had bled everywhere and you remember the thick strings of blood he spat out, how dark it was against the snow even in the night. You hadn’t gone back to the spot, you hadn’t even thought about someone seeing it as it was out of sight from almost everyone unless they were purposefully looking. 

When you’re standing next to Solas once more your eyebrows scrunch, hiding behind your hair you stand there. “Thomas just fell, he’s okay.” You say in a smaller voice than you wish would come out, distractions hardly seem to work well with people like him. 

“If you wish I could look at it for him.” He says evenly, his hard to read mask slipped on once more.

“I think he’s fine, it was just a minor scrape.” 

“Was it?” 

You can’t look at him, you may trust him more than most people in the Inquisition so far but he does make you feel vulnerable in ways no one else can. You can feel his trying to peer beyond your outer defense as you stand abnormally still for someone like yourself. You watch the kids disappear behind some trees where herbs are growing, Thomas already back to normal once more.

“How?” You settle on asking. “How do you know?”

“Imagine my surprise when I found blood on my sheets upon awakening this morning.” Solas finally reveals. “A small trace amount right in a crease.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t from the kids?” You say offhandedly, “They usually have a scrape or two on them from playing.” Which is true, but you cannot imagine how you overlooked such a thing. Sera had made the bed and when you were able to your straightened it out but didn’t take a closer look, your mistake. 

“After this morning’s revelations it had crossed my mind.” His hands are neatly clasped behind his back as he seems to inspect the clouds drifting overhead. “However I walked the ground around my cabin in curiosity and found a scene of what I could only assume was an attack.” You say nothing. 

“I did not bring this up to make you feel uncomfortable.” Solas’ voice changes from it’s clinical tone, making the both of you look to each other. “I was simply wondering if you are okay.”

“I’m fine.” You say quickly but your gut clenches, making it well known to yourself that it is a lie. Solas of course doesn’t believe you either because his lips tip down, and strangely enough that’s what finally cracks you.

“....A soldier attacked me,” the words rush out of you before you can stop them and you thank everything that the kids aren’t close enough to hear. “He wanted to… well that doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing.” 

“I don’t know.” You whisper more to yourself than him, hugging yourself gently.

“The blood, was it yours?” 

“No. It was everywhere but it wasn’t mine.” A pause. “Sera found me and helped, he was probably concussed by the time she was done.”

“Yet you are still in pain.” A breeze rushes through skeletal branches and ruffles the stray hairs escaping from under your cloaks hood, tickling your nose and making you sniff. 

If you could read him you would know his concern at your appearance from the moment his anger disappeared when you sought him out and left you standing frail, looking at him with your large dark ringed eyes. 

If he knew you any less than he already does he might have thought nothing of it, or not even cared. But your weight loss half hidden under the bulky cloak you opted to start wearing couldn’t deceive him, especially when you ran to him in the night in nothing but a short sleeved shirt and long pants which gave him a better look at you. The scratches on your arms from your own nails, not handling stress well. The dark haunted look in your eyes always present but seemingly worse than before, and he had indeed noticed the slightly stiff way you walk like you’re worried about moving in the wrong way. 

He had thought at first to leave it alone, until he found the evidence.

“It’s nothing.” You say but then sigh heavily, having already lost. The one thing you didn’t want to talk about has been brought to light, might as well ease the burden weighing on your chest. “I have mostly healed from the ordeal but for some reason my back is still suffering, the soldier hit me really hard back there.” The fact that your body hasn’t fully healed wouldn’t be absolutely unheard of, it tends the burn away the worst of it rather quickly but long term healing can still take time. But it’s inconvenient, at times you’ve even had to bite the inside of your cheek when Emilee or Thomas wanted to be picked up so that you could act as naturally as possible. You could have in theory seen a healer by now without raising suspicion but… you simply hadn’t. 

“Would you allow me to inspect it?” You already feel his magic unfurling but you hurriedly hold your hands up, the kids once more making their way over to your position. 

“Just wait, okay?” He nods in understanding and the energy buzzing ceases, right as the two happy faces march up to you. For the rest of the walk the kids slowly start to rein themselves in, allowing you and Solas to alternate between quiet and finally talking about some of the books you read in his absence. In your opinion it is the best way to get over the awkwardness you feel from admitting what happened and Solas seems more than willing to discuss your thoughts about the contents you’ve read. 

In the back of your thoughts you worry about his intents to heal you, but otherwise you hope you will at least be able to take mental notes on his special magic once more.

It doesn’t take long for the littlest elf to become tired of running around and you declare the walk over, Emilee carrying her half asleep brother back to the camp while you attempt to haul everything they gathered back. Solas only goes to help you once but you refuse, carrying the heavy bag all the way to the requisitions table before walking the kids to your small sleeping quarters. 

Thomas naps in your cot while Emilee talks with the few other older girls who have yet to go to their posts. They all outwardly glare at Solas who stands in the door waiting for you but he pays them no mind, used to the negative attention.

And finally, nervously, you are alone with the man.

“You know, you don’t have to use your magic on me I’m sure your levels are still depleted from your journey.” You point out despite the fact that he is walking the both of you to his cabin, his stride long and unbroken.

“I would not have offered if that were the case.” He shuts down your argument just like that, leaving you to trail after the tail of his shirt. The both of you pass Varric at his usual spot by his fire, the dwarf writing on a scroll of paper despite the edges fluttering as the heat from the flames pushes against the cool of the air. 

“Red bird, Chuckles, out for a stroll?” He asks good naturedly, looking better than the day before, though you can feel his exhaustion looming around the edges. 

“Hello Varric,” you greet. “Just getting some stuff done, how about you?”

“Just resting up before Sera pumps me full of drinks tonight, I hear you’re joining us.” You definitely had not committed to that but it seems as usual you’re looped into another social situation by the blonde, allowing yourself to nod.

“See if you can get your grumpy pal to join us, will you?” He winks and you think you hear Solas scoff, a sentiment you share when you imagine of the mage stiffy sitting in the tavern with the two trouble makers. 

“We will see.” You tell him, already knowing there’s no chance of that happening even as you two continue on your way. When you arrive at Solas’s cabin you for once don’t know what to do with yourself, not lunging for his books, or straightening his things, telling him a late night secret, and so you stand there. 

“Sit where you will be comfortable.” Your friend is gone it seems in place of his more professional counterpart, making you awkwardly straddle the back of a chair so your ‘injured’ back is facing outward. You of course realize you also have to strip off your cloak and bag, sitting them next to you before shifting. This is your preferred outfit by choice but without the extra layers recently you almost feel more naked than if you actually were, though you don’t shiver in disgust when Solas turns his gaze to you like when others do. 

He looks utterly serious as he pulls a chair behind you, making you swallow heavily as your fingers start to fiddle with your seats cushion.

“You can relax,” Solas says which makes your fingers stall. “I won’t do anything you don’t wish of me.”

“O-okay,” you let out a long breath and try to still your rapidly beating heart as he finally seats himself. 

“You said it was your back, correct? May I?” You glance at him over your shoulder before nodding slightly, the feeling of the back of your shirt being raised creating goosebumps across your skin. Your hair must be too long because he’s forced to sweep it over your shoulders before gently poking at you. You feel his magic concentrated on his hand, creating that pleasant cool tickling feeling.

“He hit me lower,” you offer helpfully, unsure of why he’s lingering so close to your spine right under the material of your band. But after a moment he finally travels down closer to the spot that keeps giving you problems, visibly wincing when he kneads his fingers right into the area right above your pants waist.

“You would have been in incredible pain from an injury like this,” Solas tells you as the magic turns into the heavy warm feeling of healing. “If it’s hit wrong many people can feel the effects of this until old age, never quite healing properly.”

“I’m sure that’s what he was trying to go for.” You tell him honestly, resting your forehead against the sleek wood of the chair and chewing your lower lip. 

“You saw no one after it happened?” 

“No.” He thankfully doesn’t outwardly question your decision making but you feel his magic flicker, undoubtedly from whatever thoughts that must cross his mind. The conversation ceases because of your unwillingness to speak more on it so you instead focus on his magic, and how can you not. Despite the rough beginning you are actually more relaxed, sleepy even, feeling like someone has lit a flame in your lower back with the effects spreading out over the rest of your body. 

Whatever trance the healing has on you is broken whenever Solas shifts, his slender fingers skimming across your skin making your eyelashes flutter open.

“Did that hurt?” He even asks when you move slightly.

“A little,” you lie, thanking everything once more that you’re facing away so he can’t see the color warming the apples of your cheeks. You’re overly aware of how close he is behind you, how the cabin already smells like him again after one night.

“There, how do you feel?” You feel him lean away, your limbs coming to life slowly. 

“Tired,” you say honestly as you dare to stretch, feeling yourself pop in multiple places, but no pain. You hear Solas actually  _ chuckle  _ as his chair is pushed back so he can stand.

“That is to be inspected with extended exposure, it should wear off after a while.” He informs you, something to take note of for future reference.

“I feel like I almost fell asleep, how long did you do that?” 

Solas turns away and busies himself with something, “Not that long.”

You test yourself by bending over fully and feel nothing, easily swinging on your cloak and bag like there was never a problem to begin with. Already you start blinking away the sleepiness clouding your mind, feeling better rested than you have in a while. 

“You know, you really didn’t have to do this for me.” You tell your taller companion who looks back to you with slight irritation before you continue. “But you did… so thank you. Again.”

“Think nothing of it, it’s what-”

“It’s what you’re here for, I know.” You say, your tone dropping more seriously than you intended. You look over his cabin, his things, him, and then you’re speaking. “You know, in life like this no matter how horrible it is you have to expect the worst from people.”

Solas looks at you, waiting.

“More often than not people are alone with their suffering, who then in turn push that suffering on to other people, whether they mean to or not.” You look down at the floor. “The fact that you keep helping me despite the fact that you probably have your own problems… well it’s not nothing. So I wish you wouldn’t brush my gratitude aside, not when you actually do something that so many others wouldn’t. It means something, to me.”

You tell him so unabashedly, it  _ feels  _ like the right thing to say in this moment, a truth you think he may need to hear. Solas hasn’t responded in any way yet however, the awkwardness that only crops up with the mage making you doubt yourself for but a second.

“ _Lethallan,_ forgive me, I will try to do better in the future.” He says hesitantly, shifting from one foot to another as his head tilts down. “Thank you, for thinking of me in such a way.” 

“Think nothing of it,” you say wryly, tucking your thumbs under your bag’s straps. He gives you another one of his half smiles. “Now, all there is to do is to make you come to the tavern with me tonight.”

“No.”

You don’t spend too much time after that in Solas’ company, declining the lure of reading with him as invited and instead sitting in the tavern ahead of time. 

Despite the loud patrons you do get some note taking done in relative peace, considering. After you are done you find yourself pulling out the still blank gift from Celia, turning it over in your hands and thinking to yourself. You’re focusing on it when Varric sits down across from you, instinctively sliding it under the table before realizing how that must make you look.

“Sorry, force of habit.” You apologize which makes Varric laugh, his eyes crinkling around the corners.

“Some would just figure it’s your diary. So, is that what it is?” You eye the dwarf but feel yourself slump more in the seat comfortably.

“If it were, do you really think I’d tell you?” 

“Probably not, good thinking.” He flags down a serving girl before ordering a drink, turning to you with his elbows resting on the table.

“So, you’re here early.”

“Yes? You’re here too however.”

“I actually came to get a head start, didn’t know you’d be here.” He’s lying, you pick up on that instantly as he had actually seen you walk in a short time ago. But you don’t go on guard, not yet. He seems to just want to talk, for what reason seems a little hazy.

“Well, we might as well wait for Sera than.”

“Buttercup? Yeah we won’t have to wait long, this was her suggestion after all.” He takes a long gulp of his newly arrived drink before expelling a satisfied ‘ahhh’. “Don’t drink kiddo?”

“Sera asked me that too, is it really that unusual?” You rest your head in your palm, eyeing the alcohol over his rim. Admittedly Sera in her drunken state usually encouraged you to take sips off her cup, something you only obliged about half the time. She never pushed you, like Varric was sure not to as well, but you truly wondered if you were missing out on some  _ being  _ thing that you just couldn’t understand yet. Though while spending the time in the presence of so many drunk people, maybe you didn’t want to understand what drove people to spend their whole days here.

Even Varric who is readying to respond, longs to drown what eats him inside. 

“Unusual? Maybe, but it doesn’t really matter. What do you do for fun then?” You and Varric talk casually for a good amount of time before Sera lurches into the seat next to you, her body radiating warmth from her practice that she only just now came back from. She’s lightly sweating but as always she smells rather sweetly instead of horrific.

“Aw man, you guys started without me?” She complains despite the fact that she’s already reaching into the plate of food that just came. 

“Unintended, but we’re glad you’re here now.” 

“Well, good.” She says looking at you, shifting then to look at the golden man across from you. There’s a flurry of activity as Sera orders a great many things for the table, eagerly digging into everything. She’s as thin as any other elven person you’ve ever seen, except for maybe Solas, but you’ve seen her gulf down food like a massive snake you once read about existing in jungles and not gain a single pound. 

You watch wide eyed as she strips a chicken leg down before looking at you with slightly bulging cheeks, her light brow raising.

“Like what you see?” She teases but you just make a face, nails picking at the tabletop. 

“You two certainly seem close.” Varric points out, Sera’s surprisingly strong arm draping over your shoulders and jostling you closer to her. 

“Course we are!” She laughs as you squirm in her grip, though, if you really wanted to you could pull away. “Spend most of my time friggin watching over her.” 

“Watching over her, or watching her?” Varric teases before Sera tosses a piece of food to shut him up. 

“Shuddit.” She says with a grin tinged with annoyance, unintentionally smushing your cheek against hers before her arms drops back to her side. You touch your face gently, feeling strangely heated. 

The three of you have a decent time together, snacking, drinking, talking. Varric and Sera get along pretty well except for when they touch on the subject on their respective jobs, Sera once more filling you in on her group of Red Jenny’s as she argues that they  _ are  _ a real group even if they aren’t like Varric’s. You were genuinely surprised, and dreadfully curious, at learning that Varric basically manages a spy network. You acknowledge that you haven’t dug too far into dwarven history or social aspects of the group so it shouldn’t be surprising that spy networking out of the carta never occurred to you, never having spent much time thinking about it. You listen intently at everything Varric describes to you about his job, reminding yourself to take note later of his information and to broaden your reading further to learn more about their culture. 

That night when you finally sink into bed despite your contentedness at hanging out with the small group, it nags at you that you let an entire kind of civilization escape your academic notice. Yet it also makes sense. 

Dwarves do not dream and are not typically connected to the fade in any way which is a huge part of your being, you doubt you’ve been a dwarf before simply because the body wouldn’t allow you the abilities that you have. You’ve of course interacted with them in this life time and others, only once going to Orzammar while most others were surface dwellers. And as you fall into slumber, gazing softly at the sleeping girl in the cot next to you, you are sucked into darkness.

_ “Well hello there lady Warden,” your legs roll to a stop, when did you start walking? “Did you come to- hic- have a fun time?” _

_ “Oghren go sober up in your tent, alone.” The voice that leaves your mouth is different, though not unfamiliar, as you turn to the red headed dwarven man with a smirk.  _

_ “Don’t gotta be so stiff.” He mumbles drunkenly as he tips back the ale you gifted him just that very day. Right, he hits on you often but it’s harmless, you may even think he may be lonely. It wasn’t that long ago that Branka revealed herself to be mad and then...parished, after all.  _

_ “Is it wise for you to let him drink himself into an oblivion like that?” The honeyed voice comes from behind you and makes you face stretch into a bright smile, something that feels so unnatural for  _ you _.  _

_ “If you worry about everyone in this camp, who will worry about you?” You tease Leliana as you walk the few steps to her, watching her fingers braid a little strand of hair by her face. Her hair is shorter and damp, face bare of any makeup, having just come back from washing. _

_ “I was not worrying for him, I was worrying for you. What would happen if the camp was attacked?” _

_ “Well, I have a good feeling it will be a quiet night.” You assure her as you sit beside her where she pats, close enough to brush elbows. “Plus, I would put more backing into Sten’s abilities, or Morrigan’s, to get us out of a sneak attack.” _

_ “Really, not Zevran? He is certainly quick on his feet.” _

_ “And with his hands,” your smiles wanes as you glance at the blonde elf lounging by his tent. Unlike Oghren you  _ had  _ to set certain perimeters with the blonde after he joined the group. While you saw his attraction towards you as relatively benign (or any other person he found attractive in his path), not everyone felt similarly of the situation. Zevran was disappointed and has since declined to spend time with you in any form outside of traveling.  _

_ If only you could smooth things over…  _

_ “Do not worry about him,” Leliana breaks into your thoughts, following the trail of your gaze. “I have faith that once he feels more comfortable here he will warm up to us.”  _

_ “I’m not too worried about it,” you lie, shifting in the grass and feeling it tickle your palms. For how could you not be, it all rides on you and your groups performance in basically saving everything from the blight. If you all don’t work together, even if they don’t get along personally, then what is the point.  _

_ Leliana briefly makes you freeze up as she lays her damp head on your shoulder but you relax just as quickly when you see her light eyelashes closed against her cheek. “It’ll be okay, you are doing the Makers will, we won’t fail.” Your lips tremble but you swallow it back, simply enjoying the calm presence of your friend before more chaos is certainly to find you the next day, as it always does.  _

_ “Fayette.” The name jostles you, it doesn’t sound quite right but it’s Leliana’s lilting. _

_ “What?” _

_ “Fayette.” _

_ “Fayette.”  _

“Big sister?” You sit up so fast that you nearly headbutt Emilee who is shaking your sleeping form in concern, the haziness from your deep sleeping burning away instantly and leaving you staring wide eyed at the girl before realizing  _ many  _ of the girls in the cramped space are doing the same to you. Leliana stands in the doorway letting the cold air in, her expression carefully crafted on her face and leaving you chilled inside.

“Ah, you are finally awake.” She says, adjusting her gloves neatly. “Sorry for the early morning call but I was wondering if you could come with me.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, been going through it recently. But I hope you enjoy, even if it's not my favorite chapter : )

The sky is still gray it’s so early, hardly a soul out and about yet the woman leading you has no traces of sleep on her, shoulders squared back and authoritative even from behind. 

She had watched you the entire time it took you to pull on your cloak and bag, not to mention to reassure Emilee who was scared from the moment Leliana showed up at the door to the moment that you followed her out of it. 

Once again you are struck by the differences between the Leliana you once knew to the one that you now know, the feeling of warmth between the two of you that you just re-lived is now gone and simply replaced with nothing. There is nothing. Except the weird feeling.

You dare to delve a little deeper even though it goes against you better nature, reading further into her than before and finding something worrying as the Harald pops in and out of her thoughts.

“Where are we going?” You ask her as you start to twist your fingers painfully.

“To the Chantry.” Is all she says, doing nothing to alleviate the pressure building inside. It doesn’t seem she’s willing to divulge anything outwardly or inwardly and all you can do is pause at the Chantry’s large double doors before entering, feeling them close at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust and when you do you are met with the gazes of the few curious people who seem to dwell inside the hall, looking between you and the awaiting Leliana before going about their business. Walking, you sense an especially suspicious glare directed at you from a pretty, tall and dark, woman whose arms are crossed in disdain. Definitely a mage, but why does she seem to have a problem with you when you’re sure you’ve never even seen her before. 

“Here we are,” Leliana finally says as she stops outside of a door, your heart hammering in your chest as you feel the powerful lure of another magic right in the next room, accompanied by others thoughts. 

“Wait,” you instinctively reach out to her before withdrawing your hand and feeling your face burn, Leliana looking down at you with a mixture of pity and…  _ I hope she changes their minds _ . “He’s in there, isn’t he.” The spymaster neither confirms or denies before simply swinging the door open.

You meet his eye nearly instantaneously and it’s like your blood crystalizes, the smothering aura wafting from his casually sitting form neary making you wheel right back out of the room. 

“Is this she?” You tear your eyes away to see who has spoken, finding Josephine with her quill hovering over her private board. 

“Yes, this is Fayette.” Leliana confirms in your mute place, walking around the war table where a great many dots on the map are being put to action. “She is the one who informed me.” 

“I remember you, you were speaking with Varric.” Cassandra is the next to speak up, she looks better than when she came back but you can feel her weariness. For you, for whatever this situation is, for the still dead silent Harald. 

“...Yes that was me.” You finally say quietly, purposefully ignorant as you add, “Is that what I’m here for?”

“No, I brought you here because I think the information that came to me with might actually have merit.” Leliana finally confirms.

“I’m not sure-” The commander Cullen begins but he’s cut off with her holding up her hand.

“I brought her here for you to listen to her story first hand, I implore you to listen.” Cullen ceases before inspecting you. His dark golden eyes clearly pick apart your threadbare clothes, long curtain hair, bare rather dirty feet. He’s a nice enough man to not instantly think  _ street rat  _ but he is already having doubts about anything that you may say. When Leliana looks to you expectantly you realize she fully expects you to retell your story right now after getting dragged here with no explanation or heads up. 

“Okay,” you start, anxiously thumbing the straps of your bag as the Harald shifts in his seat. As you begin you keep finding your attention drifting to the man who stares unblinkingly from a dark fray of eyelashes, the Harald is a little more cleaned up than the last you saw him as well. Yet you feel… almost… dirty, being in his presence. You press your consciousness closer to his but like you suspected, like Solas, you cannot read him. 

It’s not utter silence like your friend but it  _ does  _ cause your skull to start splitting into a headache if you try too hard, something tickling far up your nose. It must be his mark that is affecting you in such a way, you don’t really get the impression that this man is anything different outside of that. Yet you can’t rule anything out since your intuition could be off. 

“-Everyone in the town was a little on guard but I don’t think anyone really had an idea as to why. That same day I was walking through the streets-”

“Why?” You physically jump when the Harald speaks, his voice low and monotone as he interrupts. It takes you an awkward amount of time to register his words but thankfully the others seem to be in a similar state and slowly turn to wait for your response. 

“I was going to buy something, ser.”

“What were you buying.”

“... A notebook, does that matter?”

You watch as the Haralds face cracks into a smile that leaves you feeling twisted, it’s the first time you’ve seen him do such a thing before but you sense uneasiness from Cassandra of all people. 

“I’m just trying to get the full picture, forgive me.” He leans back casually against the wall but you swallow before starting again.

“I was going to buy a notebook when I turned into an alleyway and right into a small group of Templars.”

“How many?”

“Three of them, ser. I had bad run ins with those individuals before so I tried to leave but they escalated it-”

“Bad run ins?” 

You frown deeply and you feel irritation spike next to you where Leliana is starting to get impatient with the man.

“Yes, the templars there were known to be especially arrogant and abusive.”

“Because you’re a knife ear?”

Cullen’s hand drops to the back of his neck as Leliana’s hands curl into fists, Josephine being the one who instinctively scolds as the scratch of her quill stops, “There is no need for such language!”

“I do not mind.” Your words surprise everyone but you only look at the Harald with a new kind of focus despite your climbing nerves. “They are just words.”  _ As is the title The Harald.  _

“Yet no, I was not merely treated poorly because of my status, they much treated everyone the same except who lined their pockets. I did attempt to leave their presence but I didn’t stand a real chance. They were trying to hurt me when-”

“How were they trying to hurt you?” Your teeth grit heavily and take a deep silent breath to attempt to calm yourself, feeling your chest begin to burn. The Harald is smiling calmly with his hands pleasantly clasped in front of him, looking the perfect part of a young man just trying to get answers. But you see it in his eyes, how nothing is really behind their gleam and their emptiness weighs on you. 

“They were attacking me,”  _ he likes this _ , ”That is all that’s necessary to say for the story.” Josephine’s head bobs in agreement, feeling her discomfort.

“Yes indeed, I implore you to simply  _ listen  _ to Fayette, this is taking too much time.” Leliana says coldly as the man rubs at his scruff as if to appear thoughtful, though the unnerving smile finally drops as he stares at the spymaster with an unreadable expression. When he says nothing Cassandra nods at you to continue.

“...During the struggle I started yelling at the main attacker but he told me he wouldn’t have to worry about what I or anyone else thought ever again, that things were going to change. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but some nearby soldiers heard the struggle and came running.” You can still see the single soldier who in reality had risked his life just to try to help, feeling guilty. “I’ve never seen how Templars fight compared to a regular soldier but they…”  _ You see how thoughtlessly they take his life, maybe somebody’s father, husband.  _ You don’t have to fake the emotion that cracks into your speech. “They killed those soldiers like… like they were nothing. I saw I stood no chance if trained men couldn’t so I ran, but the rest of the town wasn’t better. Templars were acting out everywhere erratically, but then just like that they left into the night and as far as I know haven’t been seen since.”  

“Correct,” Leliana seems to have tired of waiting to reveal her own findings, allowing you to stop speaking as if you aren’t even there. “I looked into the matter, since the town is rather small the templar numbers were limited but they did indeed all vanish. I have several testimonies that paint a clear picture that the templars actions were abrupt and harsh even for their reputation. Fayette suspects they could have been red despite the timing being before the Temple of Sacred Ashes was destroyed, I must say I agree.”

“But is there proof?” Cassandra demands with a scowl, though you don’t feel she necessarily completely disapproves. 

“Does it matter?” Leliana counters, “Even if they are not infected with red lyrium their actions still speak for themselves! If they were willing to act that way towards the people that were supposed to be under their protection during a time of chaos do we really want to consider allying with them? Not to mention even if there is not hard proof yet, you heard what she quoted the templars who attacked her said, his words clearly fall right into place for possible evidence that they could be involved.”

“That is only if she is not lying,” The Harald pointedly looks directly into your face, unconsciously causing you to hide when everyone else does the same. Cullen has no clear opinion of you yet from this single interaction but Cassandra and Leliana are thinking a little deeper. 

Cassandra does not trust Varric and by default is suspicious of you too since seeing you with him on a couple occasions, but not out of hatefulness, just intense caution. She feels the world weighs on her and her companions, something you understand all too well, she only wants to make the right decisions.  _ But what decisions are those.  _

Leliana is a little harder, you suppose she always will be, her emotions muffled somewhere inside her. She does not trust anyone, sometimes even those she would consider friends. But then here you are out of nowhere with just the edge she needs to try to lean the others towards the mages, information that doesn’t seem to be a lie from where she’s standing. Does she trust you? Not as far as she can throw you, which might actually be a surprising distance, yet there’s… something.  _ Something, but what?  _

You feel sweat prickle on your back, getting too overwhelmed too quickly.

“Well,” it’s Cullen who speaks up, surprising you greatly as your head snaps to look at him. “As much as I don’t want to think that the order could be involved, I don’t like what I just heard. The templars may be the better option in my opinion, but things have changed since I left the order if they are being allowed to act as such. Even if they aren’t infected with red lyrium, attacking innocent people is unacceptable.”   

“I am surprised you would so easily turn your back on your men,” The Harald comments, no longer facading pleasantness of any kind. The room becomes more intense as the two men stare off, Cullen no longer looking quite so relaxed himself. 

“My men are here serving the Inquisition, what the order decides to do is out of my control but I have some say what I do here.” Cullen leans heavily on his sword hip and you feel sudden admiration for the commander swell in your chest, it helps you to stand a little straighter yourself. 

“I agree,” Cassandra finally says. “And even if I did not, we must make a decision and soon. We may have doubts about the mages but until we do know more about what’s going on with the templars we may as well meet with First Enchanter Fiona to see what she has to say.” 

The Harald looks off darkly as some unknown point, completely still like a predator waiting to strike out. But when he finally moves it’s languid as he mockingly holds up his hands in defeat, “Alright. Looks like you have all come to a decision, guess it doesn’t matter that I’m the Harald of Andraste himself.” His words seem to unsettle the others but not enough to change their minds now, hopefully it continues to be that way. Lelina gives herself a silent quick victory before looking at you with hidden appreciation, despite not feeling like you did much yourself. 

“You all begin, I will walk our guest out.” You force yourself to turn your back on the pair of eyes searing into your back as Josephine calls out ‘Nice to meet you!’. Leliana walks a couple steps with you into the slowly lightening main hall, the sun only now beginning to tint the sky yellow through the windows. The sound of the door closing leaves you alone with the spymaster and you secretly hold your hand to your heart, feeling it race against your ribcage uncomfortably. It doesn’t seem to be calming down.

_ How do they spend time with someone like...him.  _

Is he what fuels their exhaustion, their hopelessness? 

“You did well,” Leliana praises as you turn to her, a pleased look quirking her lips. It’s a shadow of the one you often see in the past but it serves to distract you for the moment. 

“I’m glad I could help, though all I did was tell you what happened.”

“Yes.” She cocks her head, squinting ever so slightly. “Thank you for being so compliant in coming with me so early. And I am sorry.”

_ Sorry for what? _ You want to ask her, watching her expression gloss over as she looks at the closed door, like she can still see him.  _ I’m sorry for involving you with him.  _ You don’t have time to ponder on exactly what she means by that but she is already smiling placidly, the ones she gives her subordinates. 

“I won’t steal away anymore of your time, Fayette. And take this in the best way, I hope we do not see each other again.” Her words are not the brutal punch you were expecting, instead feeling the truth behind them as she slips back inside. You can hear them making plans for the next steps already by the time you decide you can finally walk away, the works finally getting set into motion. 

You feel eerily calm on the outside as you pad across the rough carpet warming the cold stone underneath, not reacting to any of the people you pass. When you break into the outside once more you only stop a moment before falling into a run, thinking it’s still early enough that no one will see you. Which is why you miss Sera who goes to wave at you before seeing the paleness of your complexion, taking off after you sneakily. 

You find yourself in the woods panting, flinging off your bag carelessly before ripping off your cloak in an attempt to allow yourself to breath. The air in your lungs becomes heavy and burns outward, lips parted as you try not to slip further into the panic. Numbness tickles along your jaw and behind your eyes, sweat prickling along your hairline and beginning to dampen your back.

_ What the shite?  _ “What the shite?” Sera finds you half crumpled on the ground desperately clutching the mounds on snow your hands have collected. “What are you doing?”

She sounds like she’s coming from far away yet your bleary eyes still manage to look in her direction, not liking the way her eyebrows are so heavily knit together as she rushes to your side.

“Don’t touch me,” you snap out instinctively when her hands comes to rest against your shoulder, regret instantly filling you at your reaction but forcing yourself to take a deep breath. “Dammit, I’m sorry. But please don’t touch me, it makes it worse.”

“Makes  _ what  _ worse?” You can tell she’s looking for some kind of outward wound that could be inhibiting you but she obviously doesn’t come across one, instead awkwardly crouching in front of you so you can look up at her.

Your lips seal together in a straight line as your jaw starts to tremble, clutching at the snow harder but not feeling the biting cold you need. “I’m… I’m having a panic attack.” You finally admit, not liking how the words form on your lips. Sera has never heard such a term before but she’s definitely smart enough to guess what the words together could indicate, eyes widening.

“Er, okay. Anythin’ I can do?” Her hands flutter around nervously, trying to remember the last time she had ever comforted someone in the way of direct help rather than… literally anything else she’s ever done. 

“... Can you just sit there?” You dare to ask, not fully expecting her to comply because of her obvious discomfort. Yet she settles down as soon as the words leave you, her eyes thankfully wandering away from you in an attempt to not outwardly stare like she has been. You take the opportunity to try and ground yourself by focusing on the small details of the friend before you, needing to focus on anything but your insides. 

You first latch on to painstakingly counting the visible mini freckles on her face, pleasingly dotting along the curve of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose more so than anywhere else. You watch the flicker of her thick blonde eyelashes catch in the rising sunlight when she shifts slightly and how her nose is crinkled because she’s thinking. It’s as your admiring her choppy hair that you finally start to breath normally, the pit in your chest less consuming. Her hair swishes when she turns to you sitting up, eyes dropping as it now seems much harder to look at her. 

“Are you, uh, okay?” Sera asks a little unnerved.  

“I’m okay, I’m sorry you had to see something so… so… weird.” Your flush brings color to your pale cheeks uncomfortably, especially when Sera frowns.

“Okay, what? Weird is so not the word for  _ that _ , more like fucking scary. You looked like you were poisioned or some shite.”

“I get physically sick if it gets too bad, this was a rather mild one compared to some.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel, literally, any better.” Sera’s lips pout. “Did something happen ‘cuz I saw you running from the Chantry.” 

“Leliana woke me up this morning to talk to the Harald about that incident I told you about. Being in his presence…”

“Overwhelming, ya?”

“Yes. I like to feel a little more prepared than I was, I think he wanted to catch me off guard. I let him get to me, so easily.” 

“That’s what he does! He picks at you however he wants whenever he wants and as far as I can tell he does it just ‘cuz he can.” Sera offers to wrap her arm around your shoulders tentatively and this time you allow her, slightly leaning into her side. The small hairs around your face are curling from your sweat and you vaguely worry how you might smell but it’s not even on Sera’s mind as her fingers gently run over the material of your shirt. There’s only been a few moments like this before, neither you or Sera being the obvious cuddly type, but it always surprisingly feels normal. For the moment, Sera is the perfect thing to help you calm down. 

You already feel exhausted by the time you raise your head again, Sera already looking at you and her cheek dimpling slightly as she smiles.

“Alright, I can’t leave you alone so you’re gonna come practice with me. No don’t give me that look it’ll be good for ya after… all that.” 

You want to argue with her but it’s probably true that the last thing you need is to have your episode just replaying in your mind, deciding instead to walk with her a little further into the forest. You’re inspecting the contents of your bags carefully to make sure you didn’t break anything when you threw it when you come into the clearing that has clearly seen some action. 

Some blades are broken and frozen into the sides of tree trunks, scattered arrows half disappeared in snow banks and bare branches with self made marks in rough shape from repeatedly taking a beating. 

“Not bad,” you tell her as you gently attempt to tug loose one of the arrows only to find it firmly rooted behind the bark.

“Thanks, I usually come here to be alone and just go at it but it’ll be nice to do it with you.” Sera quickly turn her head away so you don’t see her nose burn red from her own wording before she turns to you and curiously looking at your bag.

“You got weapons in there?”

You pause long enough that even if you said no, there’s no way Sera would believe you so you nod your head honestly. “Yes, but I would prefer not to use them.”

_ Weird.  _ “Weird, but alright. Here I have plenty, blacksmith let me have all the failed blades from his new apprentices. Just be careful, sometimes bits fly off.” She reveals her sack of daggers slumped in front of a broken tree and you brush your hair away from your face absentmindedly so you can carefully select a few sturdy ones for yourself while not cutting yourself on the others. Sera does the same and you find yourself standing besides her awkwardly, watching her nimbly chuck a dagger at the center of the tree ahead of her before pulling out her bow just as quickly and aiming for the same spot. She smiles encouragingly at you before she continues yet you simply weigh the blades in your hand with a blank stare. 

You’d made a conscious decision a long time ago to discontinue using weapons against other people and even animals, it feels odd to have one in your hand now. The blade itself is slightly curved in a way it’s not supposed to be but it’s sturdy otherwise and something seems to ache in your bones. Physical confrontation as a child was how you dealt with a lot of your issues and you have the faint scars on your hands from punching trees such as these with vigor to get rid of the bad feelings. But then you’d met Jared and things changed, in a good way. Yet recently writing hasn’t seemed to help as much as it used to and it seems the further you get into this mess with the Inquisition the more you start to teeter on that edge again. Even now that fire is burning your insides, thinking miserably of how shite you feel, how once more so much weighs on you, and finally the Harald. 

_ Thunk!  _ Sera jumps at the forcefulness of which you throw but she’s seen you fight before, if you’re going to expose this side of you it might as well be someone who’s already seen it. It feels... _ good _ , really good to see the blade sink into its target. 

You imagine it’s the Harald’s face as he insults you.

_ Thunk! _

You imagine it’s him interrupting you.

_ Thunk! _

How he fed off of the emotion in the room.

_ Thunk! _

How he enjoyed the thought of you getting harassed.

“Shite okay, maybe giving you weaponry in this state was a bad idea.” Sera scratches her head as she watches the blade glance off the bark and bounce dangerously away into a bush. You hadn’t realized you’d started trembling until Sera gently takes the dagger out of your tight grip.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve vented like this.” You wipe the sweat from your brow but Sera seems to understand.

“Worlds gone a bit crazy it only seems right we all go a bit crazy too. Here, I don’t usually let people touch my shite but hands on seems a bit rough for you right now. At least with my bow you have to take the time to line everything up.”

The smooth wood is still warm from her own grasp and she hands over her quivers before placing her hands on her hips to watch your reaction. Despite Sera’s mischievous nature she seems to be making a whole lot of sense right now, especially as your breathing levels out once more so you can aim for the target.

“So.”

“So?”

“Yeah, can I like, ask you something?” You both watch the arrow barely miss its mark before you glance at her and say yes.

“So animals and kids like you, you go out of you way to help people who sometimes don’t even like you, and you look like wind could crumble you over. Yet I’ve seen you beat up a grown man. Now you’re nearly splitting shite in half with accuracy that suggests you’ve definitely trained with shite before even though you act like you haven’t.”

“Is...there an actual question you want to ask?” You’re having a hard time disconcerning her many filtering thoughts, why does she seem nervous?

“ _ Yes _ , just let me get to it! Shite. Okay well I guess I just want to know more about you? I mean I feel like we talk more about me and I  _ never  _ talk about  _ me _ . When I saw you falling apart I realized I had no idea how to help you and I  _ never  _ know what’s goin’ on in your head like you seem to know what’s going on in mine.” Sera watches your eyes widen ever-so- _ slightly  _ as your lips involuntarily part to reveal your unusually white teeth, her gaze lingering there for a moment. 

“That still isn’t a question. But um, I know I don’t talk about myself but I’m that way with everyone.” 

“You talk to Solas.”

Heat crawls up your neck and your next arrow misses its target to fly out of sight before you lower the bow to turn more towards her, already feeling yourself lie. “That’s different, everything he happens to know about me has been learned through simple conversation and often through discussion of books. It’s not like your forthcoming with your past, beyond a couple years I have no idea what your life was like.”

“Don’t be fucking daft,” Sera says grumpily, face beginning to scrunch up and leaving you confused. “Who the fuck gives a shite about the past, I’m tired of hearing of that. All I wanted to know is what kind of a person you are  _ now _ , like you know me  _ now _ .” 

Oh. And despite her messy way of saying it you do suddenly understand what she means. You always feel very strange when people talk about other things without realizing it, especially in regards to yourself. Of course it would make sense that she would feel there’s an imbalance in the friendship, you had been struggling with trying to keep lines in place so they don’t know you are literally in their thoughts. It’s hard because for a lot of them the more you spend in their company the more you naturally feel like you know them, it can be hard to remember other people don’t interact in the same way. If people don’t specifically ask you tend to just not say much about yourself. You suppose that’s why it’s different with Solas, actually having to get to know someone through regular means. 

“I’m sorry Sera.” You tell her honestly and for the first time instinctively reach out for her hand to squeeze it, relaxing her almost immediately despite her surprise. You try to search for the right words to express how you feel but you struggle. Your memories of past lives proves you have the capacity for real friendship and meaningful connections despite what you are, but this life is very different and for many reasons. “I’m not used to talking about myself, but for you, if you want to ask me things I will try to answer them. It’s just not easy for me in some cases.”

Sera squeezes your hand back in complete understanding and you feel her relief from thinking that you didn’t consider her as a friend back disappear as her grip falls from yours.

“Alright. Well I guess I wanna know first why you own weapons apparently and can kick ass but you don’t, even if you’re in trouble. I mean, shite, that could fall into the uncomfortable conversation like you literally just said but I want to know.” 

You look at the bow in your hands with a careful gaze before raising it up with an arrow cocked in place. “It’s… a little hard to explain.” The arrow finds its mark in the center of the target. “Killing people is a natural part of this world whether it’s good or not, people accept it as it is because it seems like it’s in our nature to fight for any number of reasons. But what if you killed people for no reason Sera.” 

“For no reason at all?”

“Well, not exactly. But imagine for instance you are born and from that time until you die you do the things you do without question. You’re not getting paid, you’re not doing it for justice or love or even anger or revenge. Killing comes naturally for you.” 

The arrow hits another mark spot on. “Because for you and in this world what you’re doing sort of makes sense and blends in with other people’s actions. But one day it’s like you wake up.” 

Your arrow misses the target completely as your gaze goes out of focus, bow dipping to the ground. “You wake up and you actually _ realize _ that nothing has ever been in your control, how would you feel.”

Sera is eerily quiet for a moment as she thinks about what you are telling her, face going through different motions. “Well I dunno, I’ve always done whatever I’ve wanted to do including killing people. But shite, if I realized that for my whole life that whatever I was doing was because of some other reason and I didn’t even realize it I would be fuckin’ pissed. I would- oh.” 

Right, she  _ would  _ make changes to feel like everything that’s thrown at her is in her actual control, she could  _ choose  _ how to react to situations. And for you not killing people is one of the only things you can do that you feel is your own decision. Often your body and mind press you to be who you are naturally, to handle things in a manner that you are uncomfortable with.

The soldier who attempted to assault you pushed you too hard and found himself facing not just you but a collection of yourself, fighting instincts still strong in times of great distress. But you never want to rely on that side of you if you can, because you know what you’re capable of when you’re in that state.

“So you don’t kill, or even hurt people in a lot of cases, because you want to feel in control of what you’re doing? But I thought you said you didn’t believe in the Maker or the dumb elfy gods so why would you feel like you have no control over your life?”

“You’re not going to like hearing this Sera, but there are many things at play that we have no understanding of. We cannot possibly know everything there is to know no matter how hard we try.”

“Ugh. Well I can’t say I really understand any of that, but if that’s how you feel.” You’re right that she didn’t like that but she did ask so she can’t get too upset despite how her nose has been slowly wrinkling up. “Okay new question.”

The two of you talk for a little while more about some easier topics, the tension from the previous topic melting away quickly. Eventually ending up just watching her throw the daggers until she’s slightly shivering from the incoming cold wind.

“Alright, I think I’m done here. You wanna hit the tavern? I’ll buy.”

“Isn’t it still a little early for that?”

“Never too early if you ask me. But if you gotta go do other shite maybe we can just meet up later?” 

“Sure. Maybe. I mean I didn’t have anything planned but I should make sure Emilee and Thomas are okay, I’m sure they’re a little scared after Leliana showed up to take me this morning. I probably should have gone right to them to assure them I’m okay.”

“Nah. You need to worry about yourself more, if they had seen you having that  _ panic-attack  _ or whatever you called it it might have just scared them more.” 

You suppose Sera is right as the two of you gather up your stuff and head back, absentmindedly smoothing down your hair and clothes in case you still look disheveled. It’s late morning by now and people are milling around already getting to work, soldiers already stumbling from their tents as their blonde commander barks for them to get to work. When Cullen sees you he pauses before nodding his head in acknowledgement which you return without much thought, disappearing behind the gates. Sera goes to the tavern just like she said she was and you first check for the kids where you and Emilee sleep but finding no sign of them which moves you around the camp. It’s strange, they usually seek you out like they know exactly where you are as most kids do but now it seems they are nowhere. 

You pause in front of the chantry door, not wanting to revisit it so soon but having a sudden feeling that that’s exactly where they are. You twist your fingers before pushing open the door and peeking inside, more chantry sisters are standing around than earlier but it’s not crowded by any means. There are varying reactions to your arrival but none seem hostile so you slip inside rather easily, heart thumping uncomfortably until you sense the Harald isn’t in the building. That makes it much easier to move forward and seek them out, even as a bad feeling returns in full force when you see the kids. They’re with their mother who is holding them quite protectively to her sides as that dark skinned mage who glared at you before speaks to her. Emilee and Thomas spot you first and jolt like they want to run over to you but when their mother sees you her eyes widen, drawing the mages attention to you.

Her full lips are pressed into a grim line as you slowly make your way over, trying to hide your alarmed confusion and the feeling the small group is giving off. 

“Big sister!” Emilee chirps up before the adults can speak. “Madam Vivian is saying we can’t spend time with you anymore!”

“Excuse me?” Your brows drop heavily as their mother swallows almost guiltily. But it’s not she who speaks next, it’s the woman Vivian. 

“Yes dear, it is for the best and their mother agrees.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t even know you?” You say but Vivian holds her hand up authoritatively, making your mouth snap shut. Vivian nods to the other woman as if signaling that they don’t want the kids to hear. The children’s mothers gives you an apologetic look before pulling the kids into the room with her and closing the door, leaving you quite stunned. It takes a second for you to turn to the taller woman but despite how you’re currently feeling you don’t feel malevolence from the woman’s actions, though she is actively looking down at you with a sharp gaze directed towards your threadbare clothes especially. 

“I’m sorry dear if it seems decisions are being made behind your back.”

“It’s hard not to feel that way when you just did that without my knowledge. This is the first time we’ve met isn’t it? Why would you tell their mother to keep them from me, I take care of them and she knows that.”

“You have put yourself into a dangerous situation my dear, whether you realize it or not. If you truly wish to keep them safe you will simply leave them be.” And just as quickly as it happened, it’s over, and Vivian saunters away without so much as an explanation as to what you walked into. You only stand there for a moment before hurrying after her.

“I don’t accept that. You don’t just walk into my business and act like you have any kind of a right to interfere.” That anger is starting burn behind your ribcage but you clench and unclench your hands slowly, especially when Vivian has the audacity to think  _ what an obnoxious little girl _ when she realizes you followed her back to her dark desk. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then  _ tell  _ me, I have been watching those kids for  _ months  _ and they never came to harm with me.”

“This is not about you.” Vivian says like you’re especially slow, just fueling your frustration further until she actually continues. “This is about you angering the Harald with convincing the others to go meet with the mages. This is about not drawing attention to innocent children while you are away and unable to defend them if the Harald decides he wants to make an example of you.”

You stare at her dumbly for a moment but the realization comes internally first, before you can even manage to ask. “Wait, while I’m away?” She doesn’t need to clarify what she means because you can read the thoughts quite clearly but the words nearly send you careening anyway, even as she softens slightly with understanding how in the dark you are.

“You don’t know. The Harald has announced that he now needs an elven helper for the road, despite not having one in the past. Apparently he’s chosen you.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely didn't know how long this chapter was until after it was done, hopefully it makes up for the long time in between uploads lol

Sera is wildly upset, it would be amusing if you weren’t feeling similarly. 

As it turns out your blonde companion is not going along for the trip to the Hinterlands, but Solas, Vivian, Varric and Cassandra are. You will miss her in the time that you’re gone and tell her so, but knowing Solas will be alongside you secretly fills you with some ease. You wouldn’t be able to read the Harald anyway but the silence from the others as well will be welcome. 

You feel rather sick as you load your bag onto the horse provided for you, more than a little uncomfortable with the attention directed towards you from the usual gathering crowd. Apparently Vivian was not the only one who knew before even you that the Harald had specifically chosen you to go because several people had approached you the previous day. Some serving girls who had always avoided you suddenly gave you extra provisions and tittered about being lucky that you had been picked by their savior and how they wished it were them. Cullen had greatly surprised you by approaching with Cassandra and provided a thin sword you could easily wield, you could tell they were both thinking about what could happen to you during the trip. Accident or not. Though, digging a little deeper you find Varric is the one who suggested the impromptu gift even though he never said anything. 

You glance at the dwarven man now who is muddled in his thinking, but when he catches you looking he smiles.

“You ready for this Red Bird?” 

“Yes, though, I don’t really have a choice.” You say rather negatively but he just chuckles and pats his horse. 

“We’ll watch over you don’t worry. Sera would kill me if I did otherwise.”

“Got that right, I  _ would _ .” Sera walks up with the deep scowl that has marred her face since yesterday, wondering if she even slept with the expression. “I can’t believe he’s leaving me behind but taking that tightass with him.”

The three of you look to Vivian who is already poised on her horse and reading a book unbothered while waiting for everyone else to be ready.

“He must have a reason for bringing her, my guess is to have someone else who has similar views as him about the mages.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Right you said you just met her yesterday. She doesn’t support free mages, she wants to reinstate the circles.” Varric says as he watches her flip the page of her book. You don’t say anything but that lowers your opinion of her even more greatly than what she pulled the day before with the kids, again understanding her reasoning but not appreciating the underhanded way she attempted to do it. What if you hadn’t come along, would the kids have been kept from you without so much as even a word of explanation? When you had told Sera what the mage did she was furious and told you that  _ she  _ would watch over them while you’re away which is a comforting thought, and not just for you.

Emilee was allowed to sleep in her cot next to you for one more night and watching her cry was heartbreaking, she kept telling you over and over that she and her brother didn’t want to stay away from you and didn’t want you to leave. You’d soothingly run your fingers through her hair as you told her Sera would still be there if they needed someone, and that if they were ever in trouble that you would still be there for them as well. It was only after that that Emilee could fall into slumber, and much like leaving Celia behind, you rose before she awoke and gathered your things. 

You sniffle and when Varric looks to you at the noise you pretend your nose is running from the cold. Thankfully that’s when Solas finally shows up, his reposeful silence filters into your brain and allows you to sigh and untense. He sidles up to your side casually with his horses reins.

“What’s up Chuckles, it’s not like you to be unpunctual.” Varric says as the newly arrived horse huffs into your hair with familiarity as all the others did when you got here, though this one is also trying to nibble on your hair.

“I had business to attend to.” A typical Solas response for most people but you can pick up on the irritation in the air around him. You meet his eyes but they don’t reveal anything, making you wonder. 

“I still think if the Harald needs two mages he could have also brought me, isn’t more better?” Sera complains and you pat her arm softly to keep her from getting too angry.

“The mages are already on edge too large a group could be intimidating especially with the Inquisition growing. Like Varric said the only reason Madame Vivian is going is because she will vote to keep the mages under any ruling thumb.”

Speaking of, you can feel the approaching mass of energy the Harald always carries with him, exiting the gate briskly and striding to his mount who tries to shy away from him even as he roughly yanks its muzzle into submission. You flinch towards the animal but Solas subtly leans into your path as if to say not to. 

Cassandra sees him arrive and breaks away from talking to Josephine and Cullen who have been watching you wearily without you even realizing it.

“Everything is ready whenever you are.” She tells the Harald who seems to have reverted back into not talking as he simply nods and loads his heavy looking bags onto the horse. Cassandra walks over with her hand resting on her hilt casually, or maybe stressful, hard to tell. 

“I am assuming you all are ready to head out as well, we have a lot of ground to cover to keep up with the Haralds schedule. He thinks we will be able to reach the Hinterlands in the same amount of time as before if we ride hard. You there, Fayette. Are you used to riding?”

“I wouldn’t say used to it but I’ve done it before so I’ll manage.”

“Good. This will not be a pleasant journey but we should be able to make it there in one piece.” 

“Any word on if he’s planning on running us through areas with rifts or is he planning more of a straight shot?” Varric questions which makes you look between the both of them.

“Unless we come across any I don’t think he plans on stopping on the way to Redcliff village, that may change.” Cassandra confirms before going to her mount. That’s the signal that it’s time to finally leave and you feel a strike of nerves in your chest.

“Well I guess this is-” You turn to Sera to tell her farewell but the wind is nearly knocked from your lungs as she flings herself at you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulders. Her sweet scent washes over you and you start to feel dizzy before you realize how stiffly you are standing and tentatively hugging her back. 

When she pulls away from you her face is tinged pink. “If you die out there I’ll be pissed.”

“I know.” You finally smile slightly before realizing you have an audience, Varric grinning like a madman and Solas of all things louring before realizing he’s expressing it outward. He seemingly scoffs to himself before going to his own steed, leaving you clueless even as Varric chuckles.

You struggle to get on your mount at first but eventually the pony seems to get the hint and bends for you, leaving you to scratch him behind his ears as thanks. Before the group disappears through the line of trees you do spot Thomas and Emilee with their mother by the gate but even as they wave to get your attention you catch yourself and glance at the Harald to make sure he isn’t watching, even if Vivian is. You don’t care for the way the mage looks at you when you faintly acknowledge the children's goodbye but you don’t want them to think they did anything wrong. 

You didn’t have much time to consider what the trip would be like with the group as you hardly had time to register you were leaving in the first place. The last people you traveled with was to arrive at the Inquisition and it had been unpleasantly loud with the number of people talking and doing things becoming too much at times. The way the others often talked about traveling together you suspected they may often argue from stress, or maybe natural teams would form and talk amongst themselves. What you hadn’t considered is the brittle silence as they all stay to themselves. 

You ride towards the back of the group so to stay as far as possible from the Harald at the head which gives you many opportunities to simply watch the others. The pace is fast enough that Vivian long had to store away her book away yet her face suggests she’s deep in thought about something. Cassandra is on constant watch with her eyes moving about to every tree or bush you pass as if thinking they could be attacked at any moment. Varric does much the same but when he looks around and happens to meet your eye he sometimes pulls a humorous face as if to say  _ You holding in there Red Bird _ ? You’re sure if you could read him that’s what he would be thinking, if Solas weren’t riding alongside you. 

You’re uncertain is he’s purposely keeping pace with you at the back or simply avoiding the Harald too but he has hardly spoken a word for the few hours now that you’ve been on the road now. You find yourself glancing at him more often than the others, marveling at how stoic and experienced he looks on his steed like there’s nothing more natural for him. You couldn’t feel further from that as your crotch starts to ache from the constant motion of thumping up and down, squirming uncomfortably as you try to find a position that won’t end the day with you hobbling around. But as it ends up the group doesn’t stop until after nightfall has already since shrouded the land in darkness, you’re pretty sure the Harald would have demanded to push through the night if the partial moon hadn’t disappeared behind clouds and left everything eerily green from the scarred sky. 

“We’re setting up camp here.” Cassandra finally announces and you could cry from relief as you slide from your horses back and to the ground, pain flaring both down your thighs and up your abdomen. It’s as Vivian lights up a fire that you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you well?” Solas asks and you turn to see his eyes glittering in the limited lighting.

“I think so, just sore.”

“Would you like me to tend to it? We will be expected to wake up in a few hours at dawnbreak, it’s not much time to recuperate.” The offer is tempting and you instinctively want to agree for once, until you actually imagine what that would mean. His hands resting on your bodies lower stomach, or thighs, or your... 

A strange kind of pang stabs at your lower intestines and you swear you feel goosebumps prick along your arms.

“Um, that’s okay. You should conserve magic is case of an emergency.” You say weakly, thankful that he doesn’t push it further, until you feel a spider like sensation up your spine.

“You there. Tie the horses up and start pitching tents.” That monotone tone couldn’t be anyone other than the Harald and when you turn around you nearly bump into him he’s looming so closely. 

“Anything else I can do to help?” You question unblinkingly, watching his face very closely.

“Let’s see if you can even handle that first.” You want to ask him why he would even drag you along if he thought those tasks would be too much for you but his unmoving build seems to only grow taller the longer you stand there so you find yourself swallowing and nodding. 

You skitter away the best you can with your sore body and get to work, the horses offering you no resistance as they seem to follow you despite the fact that you hold none of their reins. You speak to them under your breath as you tie them to their respective branches and feed and water them, the only sounds being heard being the crackling of the fire and branches knocking against one another in the dark. It’s why you’re sure everyone, including yourself, judder at the abrupt voice.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing.” The Harald has descended upon Cassandra who started pitching up some of the tents, her face steady as she straightens her back to face him challengingly.

“Fayette needs to take care of the exhausted horses there’s no reason we should stand around and waste time.”

“I told  _ her  _ to do it, not you.” He rips the cloth free of the pike holding it up and they both watch it flutter to the ground. “You will wait as you are told.” 

You look nervously between the both of them before rushing over, taking the tent from Cassandra’s grasp. “I’ll set up first and then I’ll finish with the horses.” The tension between the warriors is palpable, the striking womans face twisted in clear disgust at the Haralds behavior. Luckily she breaks off first and stalks away, leaving the Harald to glare down at you instead. He seems to watch your every movement as you start setting the tents up, uncomfortable not only from his expression but the clear pity from Varric as well. 

It’s only after you’re pitching up the last one that you realize there’s not enough for everyone in the camp, or more specifically, there’s not one for you. You glance at the Harald and though you can’t read him you’re sure he’s done this on purpose, especially when he raises a mocking brow as if to say  _ something wrong _ ? 

“Is there not another tent to set up?” Varric asks with a frown, and you see his jewelry glint in the corner of your eye as you shake your head. Vivian is silent as she unrolls her bed, only looking up when Cassandra stands nearby.

“I will share the tent with Madame Vivian, Fayette you take mine.”

“I could always share a tent with Chuckles here too.” Solas looks at the dwarf but doesn’t deny the idea even though you know for a fact he would much prefer solitude. 

You’re all already losing time before daybreak so you simply smile, much to the Haralds apparent displeasure, and say, “That’s okay, I’d much prefer to sleep outside anyway. You all do what you usually do.” 

“Are...you sure about that Red Bird?” Varric questions even though by now he should know you don’t get cold, you’ve had to tell him so multiple times now.

“Yeah I’m sure, I’m more comfortable outside.” 

Solas and Varric are the ones who accept it right off the bat, Cassandra and Vivian pausing to look at you with varying expressions of suspicion at the odd information. But you pay them no mind as you unload your few belongings and set them down at the base of the tree by Solas’ tent and clear away some of the snow before laying your cloak down for a little softness against the frozen ground. When that’s set up you wander back to the horses and finish tending to them, keeping an eye on the Harald this time to make sure he isn’t making more trouble. You finish getting them all water and brushed out by the time that most others have decided to turn in, your own eyes burning from exhaustion and hand slowing its movement with the brush. 

You’re too tired in fact to properly react when a hand takes the brush from yours, looking over your shoulder to see Solas. “You need to rest now.”

“Why aren’t you asleep with the others?” You question him, allowing him to lead you to your makeshift sleeping spot where you sit down a little more clumsily than usual. 

“I am to watch for the first hour, Cassandra will take the second shift.”

“Do you do this every night?”

“No, Master Tethras and Madam Vivian will do it tomorrow night if we stop and set up.”

“What about me?” You ask before yawning widely, eyes prickling with tears and casting Solas into blurriness.

“You worry about what else  _ he  _ will make you do on a whim, I am sure he has many plans for meaningless tasks to give to you.” You nod sleepily, missing the way Solas for a moment smiles softly down at your obvious struggle to stay awake for this conversation alone. “I will be by the fire if you have need of me.”

And with that you fall into slumber, and into something strange. 

_ It’s white and new. The mist is thick like a cloud, blinking slowly, an unfamiliar feeling creeping along your skin. It isn’t normal for you to come into a space like this, turning blindly but seeing nothing constructing for you. Looking down you are nothing but blank space in a humanesque form, different colors filtering in and out like flimsy bubbles before they disappear. Suddenly there is the sound of someone or something padding by, eyes catching white moving by quickly as if you are not even there at all. On instinct you follow it through the fog the best you can until you nearly pitch over into water, details slowly becoming clearer. Walking out of the fog you see the beginnings of a massive city, one you have never seen yet the architecture seems familiar.  _

_ Looking around you spot the creature that had been in the fog with you, a large white wolf running into the empty gate that leads in and finding yourself following silently. You find you can run along the top of the water instead of sinking into it and duck in after the animal, gazing at the massive statues of what appear to be people in chains before heading up a massive staircase after it. There’s not another soul in sight in the entirety of the city, all houses dark and not a sound to be heard as if the world is muffled, except for the wolf of course. You find it in the noble quarter sitting and watching something up ahead, curiosity driving you forward and carefully to not give away your presence.  _

_ There is an unusually small child sitting with their back turned to you, playing some kind of a game with rocks and counting to themselves before repeating. The child pauses and turns to look over their shoulder and for a moment you stiffen but they don’t seem to be able to see you. It also gives you the chance to see them more clearly and you recognize him immediately despite the lack of years aging his youthful face. Young Varric looks unusually somber for someone who usually has a smile even in bad situations, his ears pierced with gold but lacking the chunky necklace usually adorning his broad hairy chest in current day.  He does however still have that intelligent glint in his eyes as if he knows more than he’s letting on as his face suddenly brightens as he stands. A boy a little older than Varric passes right through you as he makes his way to the golden dwarf, someone you don’t recognize this time.  _

_ “Bartrand you’re back!” Varric smiles familiarly as the older boy roughly messes up his hair. _

_ “Yeah, dad was going to keep me later but I told him you were waiting for me. I promised to go on an adventure with you today around Kirkwall didn’t I?” Bartrand says with a sly grin and both boys take off running, leaving the rock game behind.  _

_ The wolf springs into action and follows them so you do the same even as the scene swirls in front of your eyes, nearly sending you toppling until you catch yourself against stone that wasn’t there before. It’s still the city but it doesn’t look right, rock growing out of odd places as if in a cavern far below the ground. Things change, popping in and out of existence as it tries to disconcert itself. You see the wolf stop up ahead once more and so you do the same when you get closer, the young Varric and Bartrand in the middle of a tall cavern where a pedestal sits. _

_ “What is it?” Varric’s voice echoes both versions of himself now as the other boy walks up the ancient steps where the red totem sits. You feel the sting against your being and know instantly that whatever the totem is is made out of red lyrium, anxiety making you want to warn them but knowing it would be futile. This isn’t real, not in this moment in time. _

_ “Something made by the ancestors, it’s ancient. It’s going to be worth a fortune.” Batrands voice starts to lower as he picks up the red lyrium, his back stretching and hair growing until he is now an adult. Varric teeters on the edge of childhood and adulthood, his face pale and uneasy as he watches the man gaze at the item with an unnatural curiosity.  _

_ “Bartrand maybe you should put that down... “ _

_ “Can’t you hear it little brother?” Bartrand whispers almost to himself and you suddenly feel cold. _

_ “Hear what?” _

_ Things change again and suddenly you’re in the echoes of a wrecked house, Varric no longer the small boy he once was but a haggard looking adult as he faces off with his brother.  _

_ “The song… the song… I can’t hear it anymore. I just need to hear it again for a minute.” He pauses before looking around the room like he sees something you can’t. “Stop saying that! I know I shouldn’t have sold the idol to that woman… a mistake… a mistake… “ _

_ “Bartrand get ahold of yourself! Do you even know where you are? What you’ve done?” _

_ “Varric!” Bartrand clings to him desperately and as if he didn’t realize he was standing there all along. “You’ll help me find it won’t you little brother? You’ve always been the good one…” The mist starts to invade once more and you find yourself reaching out as if to attempt to keep the scene in place but it slips away as if never really there. The nearly forgotten wolves ears flick at attention at the loss of sight, as if realizing it’s not alone and you see it’s head start to turn, something that gives you an odd feeling as you wish yourself away from it. _

You sit up holding your head, eyes blown wide. It takes a moment for you to gather your bearings, no longer in the mist but instead under the stars. A little ways away the fire still burns but instead of Solas, Cassandra sits at attention with her eyes boring past the flames. 

You sigh with relief as you look towards the tent Varric sleeps in, unaware of you just having rummaged around his dreams. You always knew Varric was uncomfortable talking about red lyrium and his personal past connected to it but this… this you were not expecting. You wonder what happened to Varric’s elder brother if any of what you saw was accurate to the truth and why he’s never even mentioned him.

It’s odd though, dwarves are not supposed to be able to connect to the fade but Varric clearly just was. However you get this itching feeling in your brain as if you’ve at one time met a dwarf who had some magical tendencies… or something… it’s quite hard to remember. But either way you must document this moment, ruffling through your bag you pull out one of your many notebooks and begin to write. You squint as you work especially as you draw the wolf at the bottom, but when you’re done with its eyes you trace a finger over it, smudging it slightly. 

You are sure whatever the creature was is magical as it unwittingly allowed you to pick up on its trail and follow it, something that can walk through people’s dreams.  _ Like a somniari _ . Your eyes dart to Solas’ tent as your hand stills completely, moistening your lips before you shut the notebooks cover with a little more force than needed. 

“Is someone there?” Cassandra has jumped to her feet with sword in hand, making you quickly stumble to your feet.

“I’m sorry, it was just me.” 

When Cassandra sees you peeking out from behind the side of Solas’ tent she visibly relaxes even though she exhales rather harshly as she sits back down. You nearly expect to be repremanded like a child but when she says nothing and sullenly stares back out into the dark you find yourself strangely drawn to her. You hesitantly watch her for a moment before hiking up your bag and folding up your stiff cloak to go stand by her, watching her dark eyes look up at you.

“May I sit here with you?” 

“I will not stop you.”

You figure that’s the best you’re going to get out of her and set your bunched up cloak down for a cushion for your still sore rear end before settling down a short distance away. Because of Solas’ presence you are greeted with silence from the woman next to you, leaving you to struggle with guessing how you should interact with her or if you even should at all. Though you suppose you wouldn’t have felt the urge to sit by her if there weren’t a reason. 

Cassandra eyes wander over to you when she hears you open your bag, not so subtly looking at the surface contents with an angled brow before you pull out some of the food from your private stache. You decide on eating the more perishable items the kitchen girls gave to you, some kind of pastry that’s nearly rock hard from the cold and sends a painful chill through your front teeth when you bite into it. The sweetness settles your stomach that you hadn’t even realized was aching and you find yourself popping the whole of it into your mouth to thaw it out. Cheeks bulging as you chew you realize Cassandra is still staring, turning your gaze to hers right before she can pretend she wasn’t. You pause before reaching out a pastry in her direction, still chewing silently. 

It takes a moment for her to react at all but her gloved fingers finally take it from you, “...Thank you.” You nod to her and swallow, watching her examine it before taking a nibble off of it. The hardness around her eyes seems to soften slightly despite the dark circles hanging under them.

When you are done with the sweets you next pull out a lumpy yet shiny apple, also nearly impossible to get a chunk out of without hurting your teeth. 

“Do you mind my asking if you could cut this up?” You dare to finally speak and hold the fruit up to her which she takes while only being slightly less hesitant than before. She takes a knife from her belt and skillfully starts slicing it into even pieces.

“It would be wise of you to have a knife on you for when a sword is unnecessary.” 

“You mean for cutting up fruit?”

A flicker of a smile, “Among other things.”  

The silence that settles between the both of you is more comfortable than before so you allow it to linger as the both of you snack before you’re speaking without thought.

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble earlier.”

Cassandra seems genuinely surprised at your words before her head tilts towards the Haralds tent almost indiscernibly. “That was hardly a fault of yours, I should know by now how he will react to disobeying something he considers an order.” You watch the fires light glimmer in the corner of her dark eyes as she shifts.

“You seem the strong willed type, I’m surprised you...um…” You suddenly realize your train of thought could be considered insulting but Cassandra chuckles humorlessly under her breath.

“Take commands from a man who clearly has very little respect for anything but himself?” You nod hesitantly before nibbling on the last of the fruit in your lap. “I may not approve of his behavior or even agree with his actions at times but I do not pretend to understand the Maker’s actions.”

“You believe your maker would send someone like him in your time of need?”

“It takes all kinds of people to achieve things and the thing’s he’s already lived through…” Cassandra shakes her head before frowning. “You said ‘your maker’, am I to believe do not believe in him?”

“I don’t suppose I do.”

“Elven gods than?”

“I think they once lived but were not really gods.”

Cassandra makes a noise at the back of her throat before she not so subtly analyzes you, but unlike others gazes you don’t feel the usual squirminess from your organs. She seems to just be...looking, though you wish you knew where her mind was. 

“You’re an odd one.” You smile slightly at that as she returns it on a reflex before settling back against the log, all food having been finished. Conversation pretty much ceases after that but only for the reason of the rising sun, light filtering through the branches slowly. It is, unfortunately, soon followed by the Harald who opens his tent flap and looking far more refreshed than the woman besides you. 

Accidentally making eye contact with him makes him scowl before he wordlessly jerks his thumb towards his tent. The message is clear enough and you make quick work of learning how to fold it back up to store it away as the others emerge from theirs, Vivian having somehow found the time to look as flawless as the day before while Varric looks exactly how he probably feels. 

“Are you okay Varric?” You question lowly as you start to disassemble his tent, worried at the lines on his face before he runs a heavy hand over it.

“Just fine Red Bird, never sleep well while traveling.” You leave it at that as it’s the only thing you can do, especially when Solas finally emerges. You see the white wolf in your minds eye as he passes by you and he raises a brow when he catches you doe wide eyes. 

“Good morning to you.”

“Good morning Solas, how did you sleep?”

If he thinks the question is odd he doesn’t show it, “Quite well, the quiet of the forest is soothing, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Yes, but weird dreams always seem to follow no matter where I am though.” His head tilts to the side nearly unnoticeably but to you it’s a dead giveaway that something is running through his mind. Whatever it was though seems unimportant as his expression clears.

“It is normal during a tumultuous time for your mind to try to make sense of things whilst you sleep, it would make sense you would have odd dreams.”

“That would make sense.” You hesitate. “On a different thought, Varric already isn’t looking so good. Would you mind helping me keep an eye on him to make sure he’s okay?”

“I thought Varric was to be the one who was the watch after you.”

“If this trip promises to be as grueling as I think it is we all may need to be there for one another,” you glance at the Harald who seems to be talking to Cassandra under his breath, the previously peaceful looking warrior now back to being tense at whatever he is saying. 

“You may be right about that.” Solas agrees before wandering off to allow you to finish packing the tents. After that you quickly check on the horses who at your urging seem ready enough to get back on the road, following you like the gentle herd they are. You are sad to hand over the reins to the Harald when you see the horse attempt to pull away from him but you have no choice but to let him take it. It’s as you lead Cassandra her horse that she surprised you by anchoring her hand on your arm a little more firmly than necessary. 

“That sword that was gifted to you, where is it?”

You blink in surprise, “I have it with my other things, why?”

“Carry it on you, the Harald said he sensed an open rift that could possibly be on our course. He seems unwilling to take another path so there’s a chance for battle.” You gut twists at this news but you nod in understanding. It could be problematic if you were forced to be in proximity with creatures from the rift considering the first and last time, you were simply lucky no one had seen how the spirit had interacted with you, yet there would be many people to witness it this time. Solas, if he were to notice anything, may not point it out to the others at least. But Vivian or Cassandra and the Harald himself… there’s no way to tell how they would react. 

And so you find yourself worrying and listening intently to your feelings for the next day of riding, needing to be prepared so you have time to consider your best course of action. It is not the only thing you worry about while riding on, the image of the wolf sprinting through your mind every time you glance at your friend riding alongside you. There is something about it that strikes a chord within you but with the rough riding you can hardly claw through your notebooks and look for any material related to it, especially considering you’re unsure in which the information could lie. 

On top of that any conversation with Varric seems distracted whenever you try to initiate it and you know if he is lingering on his dreams he must be feeling awful. There is a feeling that buds inside of you when you look at the dwarven man, it makes you watch him with worry like he could slip away somehow any moment. 

You do not stop to rest that night much like predicted by Solas the day before, with the moon out the path before you all is clear. The apex of your thighs beg you to stop the harsh pace but you grit your teeth and push forward, you don’t want to be the one to complain out of the group. You can feel how the horses struggle to keep pace and pat yours encouragingly behind the ears even as your eyes attempt to droop, pinching yourself on your inner arm to try and keep yourself on the saddle. 

It is because of the distance covered however that very slowly the snow becomes thinner on the ground. When the sun rises the next morning you can see plant life budding through the early morning frost, your breath no longer fanning out in front of you.

It is nearly noon when Cassandra finally demands to stop for the sake of keeping the horses alive. 

You let out an audible sigh of relief and pain when your feet touch the ground, hugging your huffing horse to keep yourself upright. 

“Don’t just stand there, get to work.” The Harald wastes no time appearing at your back as your eyes snap open to nearly glare back at him until you see how tense he is, making you bite your tongue and hobble away. You lead the horses to the large river and carefully fill canteens so to not pitch into the fast moving waters. You’re so focused on not falling asleep kneeling on your knees that you almost miss the squabbling until you hear the Haralds deep voice command, Shut up.” You look over your shoulder and see Vivian and Cassandra facing off about something, but you’re more than a little alarmed at the Harald who’s hand is on his sword. But for once you don’t consider him a threat to the two woman because you can feel the buzz of energy across your skin, and it’s not just his mark. That’s when you hear it, the sound of something cracking the air as it opens in the distance.

“You did not say the rift was near here!” Cassandra roars as she unsheathes her sword, Vivian instantly gathering magic around herself as Varric takes Bianca off his back. You stand up quickly and Solas is by your side in an instant, his own magic tightly winding around him and brushing against your back.

“If we had ridden through it wouldn’t have been an issue,” The Harald practically spits in Cassandra’s face. “Yet here we are.” No one has the time to point out the fallacy in the logic in the statement as  _ he still could have told us one was nearby  _ because an unnatural screech and something tall and lanky appears through the trees. 

There is a flurry on motion as Cassandra charges it, nearly knocking it to the ground before it opens up a space in the ground and disappears through it only to pop up under the Harald. He slashes skillfully at it and severs its hand and making it scream, Vivian throwing spells as a flock of floating bodies invade the scene. 

With Solas nearby to give warning and protect you, you attempt to keep the horses from fleeing in terror, whispering to them rapidly but getting knocked down when one throws its head and runs off in the other direction soon followed by the others. 

Varric shoots a demon that wanders too close to you as you get back to your feet, swearing as you didn’t unload any of your things including the sword before and leaving you defenceless. 

“Are you okay?” Solas questions loudly over the splatter of another demon, his eyes darting between you and the battle.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly as your eyebrows plunge down, the scene seemingly moving in slow motion. Something feels off, something feels off, something feels- 

 The Haralds head snaps in the direction of the woods the same time yours does, lips slightly parting.

“Fu-” The Harald starts to yell as you grab Solas’ arm and yank him desperately to the side right as a boulders clears away the brittle branches and lands right where he stood. There’s a stunned silence from everyone before a monstrous creature lumbers in, horns making it as tall as the trees themselves. 

“What is that?” You clench Solas’ arm and he almost subtly draws you closer to him. 

“Pride.” He says as a deep laugh rumbles from the demon as it draws out a string of lightning from its palms and lashes it against the ground, nearly singeing Vivian’s shoes. Pride rolls its eyes and seems to latch on to you, making you instantly freeze as it takes a large step forward. You don’t notice the way Solas looks between you and it, especially when the others leap into action. It’s attention is drawn away from you and Solas pushes you behind him like the useless person you are in the situation, making you swallow back frustration as you fearfully watch over your comrades. 

Thankfully, because of Solas, focusing on the feelings coming to you is easier than before. Cassandra make have gotten knocked over but you don’t feel her end coming, Vivian may get whipped by lightning but the injury doesn’t stop her from standing again, Solas may be tired from riding but he has managed to keep the stragglers away while healing the others so they can keep moving. Those are the reason why you watch Varric with wide eyes, he’s had this feeling about him that has you on edge despite a whole day and more passing by. And it’s the reason you see exactly what you see and just in the nick of time.

Varric wipes sweat from his eyes as he struggles to quickly reload Bianca, the Pride demon swinging its arms around madly in an attempt to keep your comrades off of him. The events pan out as such, Cassandra and the Harald rushing him as Vivian charges up a large fireball. They push the beast back right as Vivian releases her magic right into its eyes, Solas using the opportunity to freeze the grass under its feet. Pride lurches right as Varric raises Bianca to shoot, only to disappear in the sweep of its large arm. 

“Varric!” Cassandra yells, Solas instinctively moving moving as if to somehow slow the dwarvens man’s fall but finding nothing coming to mind as he falls directly into the rapids of the water. You are diving in after him before Solas even knows you’ve moved, missing grabbing your arm as you run past him. 

The water takes your breath away, encasing your lungs in ice as you are swept away by the current. Despite the sting you open your eyes and redirect your body even as your forced against a rock, rolling around jumbled until you get your bearings again. You force your head above water and take a gulp of air before sinking back down under but now letting your strong instincts take over. You put out feelers through the murk and find Varric who has sunk to the bottom like a stone and claws his way up in a futile attempt to swim, most dwarves not being buoyant enough tread water. 

_ Varric!  _ You push your consciousness to his upon finding it and you see his eyes snap open in shock, his hand blindly finding yours as you tug him upwards. He is heavy but he moves his frozen limbs to the best of his abilities as your lungs start to burn, struggling to break the surface once more. You gasp for air as you wildly kick and use a burst of insane strength to pull Varric up with you, his mouth immediately expelling water as he tries to catch his breath. You hold him against your body like a weak child’s as you get rammed into another series of slick boulders, your free hand snatching at them as a nail breaks from the force of your grip to keep from drifting further. 

Varric seems to gather his bearings and puts his burly arms to good use, anchoring you both in place so you can force him up onto the river’s bank. Your arms are wobbly as you half drag yourself out, breathing too rapidly to take the calming breath you desperately need. You push all your soaking hair back so you can crawl closer to Varric who is lying down and staring at the sky like he’s never seen it. 

“Are… are you okay?” You gasp out, looking over his form mildly but not seeing too much damage considering what he just went through. It seems he’s through the woods for the moment, the feeling you felt lingering around him no longer there.

“Andraste’s tits,” Varric finally says as he pushes back his dripping blonde hair. “I guess I should have called you Red Fish, you saved my actual ass just now.” 

You find yourself chuckling exhaustedly at his words, “I don’t think names are important right now.”

“I fully disagree, when I tell this story to people you need a name that will inspire people to want to know more.”

“And you think Red Fish will accomplish that? I thought you were a good writer.”

Varric smiles at that and his eyes finally meet yours, though his expression fails instantly as he sits up slowly. You suddenly feel very aware that your face is on full display for once, flinching backwards when Varric reaches his hands towards it.

“You’re bleeding.” He says and you blink for a moment before reaching up to your forehead and feeling a rather large gash there, you had thought it was water running down your face but now you realize it’s too warm to be that. 

“Head wounds bleed more than others, I think it looks worse than it is.” You say un-worriedly despite how Varric is still looking at you.

“Still, you should have Chuckles take a look at it just to be sure. Hopefully they aren’t too far.” Considering Varric’s thoughts are not filtering through your mind you would agree that the group isn’t too far behind, or at least Solas isn’t. As if thinking of the man brings him to you, Solas comes crashing uncharacteristically through the trees. You nearly smile until you sense his fury. 

He stalks up to your still sitting form and you suddenly feel very small under his gaze, hanging your head and unable to look at him, why is he upset? You don’t have time to ponder it as Solas is suddenly crouching to your level, hands coming to rest roughly on your jaw as he tilts your head around without permission. You freeze as his stern gaze instantly goes to the blood running down your face, magic tingling on his fingertips.

“Hey Chuckles, go easy on her she just saved me after all.”

“She is hurt.” Solas stonily states as if you both were not already aware.

“I think I just scrapped it on some rocks, it’s no big deal. You should make sure Varric is okay after taking a hit like that and nearly drowning.” You try to redirect his attention but the dwarven man doesn’t help when he chimes in.

“I think I’m fine, I can wait.”

You swallow uncomfortably as magic soothes the seeping area, unsure of where to look as Solas’ face is very close. 

“You should not be so reckless.” 

“If I had waited longer Varric could have drowned.”

“ _ You  _ could have drowned.”

You don’t know what to say to that so you simply fall silent and let him do his work, feeling the injury shrink in size and then become smooth skin once more. You’re about to thank him when he starts moving your head around some more, clearly looking for more injuries, but you don’t stop him in time.

You can feel the air shift as Varric and Solas lie their direct gazes on the ragged scar splitting your throat from ear to ear with shiny skin, your heartbeat jumping when the mage’s fingers move down towards it. You pull away from him instantly, gathering your wet hair like a shield and pulling it around your face, breathing heavily as tears prick in your eyes.

“You two, are you okay?” Cassandra appears not a moment later looking harried, probably because she was the only one who ran after the mage.

“We’re fine Seeker, our friend here is a much better swimmer than I am.” Varric stands and gives you enough time to gather yourself to push off the ground and wobbly stand, now more sore than ever.

“What happened to the rift?” You question, ignoring Solas who trails after you silently. 

“The demons have been slayed and the Harald went with Madame Vivian to close it and find the steeds, they should be waiting.” You nod slowly at her words, taking a deep breath as you and the others follow the woman back. 

Varric is unusually quiet and Cassandra seems to glance between the three of you as if she can sense something occurred but having no real indication of what. You try and keep your face as blank as Solas’ as you follow the rivers water with your eyes. You traveled much further than you thought, making you wonder how Solas was so close when you had only just gotten out of the water. Had he… run all that way, looking for a sign of your body in the water? He doesn’t seem the type to do such a thing, especially since he hadn’t even rushed to Varric’s side who was the one to get knocked into the river in the first place. You feel your cheeks burn but for what reason you are not entirely sure.

You shake your head from their thoughts when you arrive back, the Harald and Vivian somehow having managed to wrangle the horse back, though only Vivian is the one who seems to be soothing them in any way. The Harald has his back facing towards you but you can tell it’s your horse that he is standing in front of, arm moving before he glances over his shoulder and quickly turns around. Your eyebrows skyrocket as you hobble forward, nearly pushing past him as he moves away without a word to Cassandra, your hands protectively coming to rest on your bag that’s still secured to your horse’s side. Was he just rifling through it?

“What happened?” You hear him ask Cassandra as she fills him in on you saving Varric and getting found down stream, undoing the straps of your bag and peeking inside to see if anything has been touched. It’s hard to tell because things naturally jostled around when the horse ran off, you will have to look more thoroughly later.

“-Fayette?” 

You turn around to see Cassandra has addressed you and you were paying no attention. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“See, she is exhausted as well.” Cassandra argues to the Harald. 

“I do not wish to camp here in this...mess.” Vivian says as her lips curl, avoiding stepping on the remains of a demon. 

“We will keep riding as planned before, we cannot stop because only a few are ill prepared for the trip.” The Harald insists as he glares at Varric and you pointedly, so far the only two who cannot keep up.

“Master Tethras and Fayette have been through a lot, I would suggest-”

“I will not be the one to hold back the group,” you interrupt uncertainty, shifting and feeling the ache of your muscles but only really noticing the irritation crossing Solas’ face. “I can keep riding.”

“Then it is settled,” Vivian claps her hands together decidedly, already making her way back to her steed. You glance at Varric who rubs his head before shaking it, not having anything to add it seems. You feel only slightly bad at having spoken for the two of them but the last thing you need is to feel like you’re dragging behind 

The group only pauses long enough to allow Varric to change from his soaked clothes, some expect you to do the same but you have no problem with the state of your clothes, instead deciding to drape your cloak around yourself just to avoid the looks. 

Varric has no problem mounting his horse after he is ready despite his layers of clothes, unlike another person. Your arms and legs tremble as you try to haul yourself up, with no adrenaline you feel like a piece of paper even when your horse is nice enough to attempt to bend to make it easier. 

You’re making another attempt when familiar hands rest on your waist and hoist you up by surprise, once seated you look down at Solas who is unreadable. You feel guilt for both pushing him away when he was worried and going against his probably wise suggestion for action when all he ever meant was to probably help. Before he can walk away you nearly lurch out of your seat to rest your hand on his shoulder. 

“ _ Ma serannas my Falon, _ ” you say simply and wring your hands as you draw them away. He gifts you with the tiny bit of softness around his mouth before his eyes drop almost unnoticeably to your neck before looking back up to you. And that’s all. 

There is a noticeable change in the group as time marches on, Varric seems to have snapped out of his stupor and now chats idly with you while riding and on the nights he stays up to watch over the camp. He never says anything about it but he as well start to help you tend to horses during stops, following you to fill canteens of water for everyone. The Harald makes only one remark about it, expecting the dwarven man to fall back into line, but it never happens. Before where Varric seemed to be a shadow simply following instructions, he now seems to rather enjoy riling up the Harald with helping and chatting with you. 

Cassandra as well seems to have changed. The awkward attempts to talk to you at times can make her seem more endearing than you previously thought, especially during the times you join her around the fire and continuously share snacks with her. You wonder what incited her sudden attempt at openness with you, perhaps the fact that you haven’t complained once despite the riding not getting any easier and that you’re basically used for any meaningless tasks. 

Which is another way things have changed. Since some of the others have been venturing beyond their usual boxes, so has the Harald. Your new duties now include climbing trees, as that’s what “Knife ears are good at”, for better vantage points the closer you get to the Hinterlands. He says it’s because he cannot sense bandits and rebels on either side but you get the distinct impression he just likes making you scramble to his every whim no matter how trivial. You’ve even been reduced to cleaning his few outfits when the group enters the Hinterlands, beating them against rocks so hard that you wish they would get swept away and the man would have to walk into Redcliff naked and ashamed. 

But truly the worst of it is Solas. Ever since the journey began, and especially after the awkward encounter of him seeing your scar, you’ve felt less connected to him than before. It’s not the fact that you two don’t have a lot of time to just talk or be in each other’s company, it’s almost like Solas is constantly thinking of other things and unwilling to let you into such thoughts. Are they about you? The Harald? Any number of things? You can’t even tell and despite having two new budding friendships the thought of Solas pulling away fills you with loneliness. 

It’s because of this loneliness that you start fretting over Redcliff. You have been there before but not in this life and you worry for the awaiting memories that may fill your brain, especially concerning  _ him _ . 

You nibble on your lip painfully and then lick away the blossoming blood before continuing. The horse master’s farm is comfortable enough but you find yourself on the roof hugging your bag and watching the farmers go about their duties. From here you can almost imagine seeing the tips of Redcliff castle while wondering what else has changed since you’ve last been there. Certainly this farm was not here that long ago, but you recognized some of the other land marks like the remains of old castles. None of which your past group ever explored during the blight of course, but the feelings passing by them were familiar at least. You watch Solas walk across the grounds, who doesn’t once turn his head towards you, and you pull your bag closer to yourself.

Upon the demand of Vivian of all people, everyone is washed the next morning and ready for whatever the day may hold. You do not enjoy getting told what to do especially with your body and hygiene, but for once you do give the woman credit, you do feel more prepared to face whatever the city holds. 

That is the last positive thought you have about it.

There was no need for a wash it seems, for as soon as you leave the farm and up to the cities gate you are met with trouble. A rift opens before your eyes and spills forth only a few demons, but something is very wrong with the rift itself. It has a visual effect on everyone nearby as if it’s sucking them inwards and slowing the time around them for the duration that it’s opened. When the Harald finally closes it he shakes out his hand and looks at it with a frown, sweat making his hair cling to his forehead. He doesn’t say anything but you felt it too when it closed, something is off.

“The work of the mages?” Cassandra questions as she sheathes her sword.

“I would venture to say the mages we are meeting did not make this occur.” Solas says but is met with a glare from Vivian.

“We shall see, won’t we.” 

The large gate opens at the signal that it’s clear, the sun at just the right height that it blinds you as you walk in. Thankfully a tall figure blocks out the light when you enter, the stone base making it suddenly clear your eyes savior is actually a statue. You tilt your head up curiously only to feel the weight of the world crash upon you, your heartbeat invading your ears to the point that you can hear nothing else around you and bile rises in your throat, impossible to breath. 

You stare at the statue and feel a tear leak from the corner of your eye against your will.

_ The Hero of Ferelden _ .

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